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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490672">Rise of Cardinal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustThatOneGirl1815/pseuds/JustThatOneGirl1815'>JustThatOneGirl1815</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Batman - Fandom, DC Comics, DCU, Red Robin (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anti hero tim drake, BAMF Tim Drake, Canon Divergence, Damian gets character development, Dark Tim Drake, Faked Death, He’s ooc, Jason is Good Brother, Lots of killing, POV Multiple, Sassy Tim Drake, TW for basically everything, Tim Drake Needs Love, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric, Villain!Tim, and Jason really needs one, anti hero AU, as much brotherly bonding as reasonably could be added given the nature of this fic, but not really?, dark!Tim, dunno how that happened, father figure ra’s al Ghul, he’s an anti hero okay, if that wasn’t obvious by now you should probably go back to the anti hero AU tag, the batfam isn’t doing all that great here guys, this is a dark story lol, uhhhhhh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:36:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>40,676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24490672</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustThatOneGirl1815/pseuds/JustThatOneGirl1815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tim Drake was 17, he faked his own death. </p><p>Three years later, a new guy has entered Gotham, with hacking skills that outmatch Oracle’s, a blade sharp enough to cut through bone, and a penchant for disappearing better than the Batman himself.<br/>And he’s making a mark on the villain population of Gotham.<br/>He leaves no evidence behind, nothing to mark himself by, only the remnants of his kill and a name: Cardinal<br/>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>Or, there wasn't an true anti-hero Tim Drake story on AO3 and therefore I had to write it myself lmao</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne &amp; Damian Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Ra's al Ghul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1579</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Jokes On You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Name: Jack Napier</p><p>      Note: Name never officially proven.</p><p>Age: Unknown</p><p>Height: 6 feet 3 inches</p><p>Gender: Male</p><p>Weight: ~192 pounds (87 kilograms)</p><p>Eye Color: Green</p><p>Hair Color: Green</p><p>Skin Tone: White</p><p>Alias: The Joker</p><p>Kill Count: 2,928 Confirmed Kills</p><p>      Note: Many Unconfirmed Cases Exist, Number Could Reach to ~3,500</p><p>Status: Alive</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There were no alarms. No sirens. Not even a twitch in the video feeds. Nothing to alert to the presence of the intruder. Well, one can call him an intruder, but that suggests he wasn’t meant to be there. And by all accounts, after the months of planning and preparation, one can certainly say that he was meant to be there.</p><p> </p><p>A long black trench coat billowed behind him as he stalked the halls of the Asylum, purposefully cut long slits in the fabric were held together by strands of red wire, stitched through the fabric in X formations. The cross stitching ran further than the slits in the coat, running all the way up the edge of the fabric from the base of the coat to the nape of the collar. It crisscrossed the shoulders and accented the wrists, the lines of blood red x’s providing something to draw the eyes. The equally blood red tie that hung around his neck, casting shadows onto his pristine white shirt only added to the aura of power the man gave off as he strode down the silent halls of Arkham Asylum.</p><p> </p><p>Despite the silence, he could hear, no... feel, the screams of its victims. The tortured way the criminally insane clawed at the walls, begging to be released from their confines. But there was one man in these walls who didn’t scream to be let out, instead he tricked, he planned, he manipulated his way into his freedom.</p><p> </p><p>The name Harley Quinn seemed to echo through the silence, louder than the others. A victim of the insanity this place radiated.</p><p> </p><p>The man found the door he wanted and began to carefully disarm the numerous locks and bolts. It seemed the world was waiting for him with bated breath, waiting, waiting... waiting.</p><p> </p><p>The door slid open, though its bolts were so unused that it screeched, piercing the silence of the Asylum. This did not worry the man. Instead, he merely stepped into the cell, where a maniac in a straight jacket awaited him.</p><p> </p><p>Eyes glistening with glee, his laughter could be heard despite the muzzle around his mouth. He couldn’t move an inch, but the monster in the straight jacket was laughing. He finally had a visitor...</p><p> </p><p>There were no words exchanged. Nothing to reveal who the man in the trench coat was. The Joker kept laughing, and the Cardinal merely drew his blade.</p><p> </p><p>It was a delicate looking thing, pristine steel shiny enough to reflect the room around them like a mirror. He held it to the Joker’s neck and sliced without hesitation.</p><p> </p><p>Red blood spilled from the wound, but that didn’t stop the man. He sliced again, carefully drawing the blade across the flesh again and again. The bones of the neck provided a slight problem, but that had been prepared for.</p><p> </p><p>The eyes of the Joker had long since lost their light, their hysterical gleam, but the man kept with his delicate slices until he reached the other side. The Joker’s head might have fallen to the floor if it weren’t for the straps keeping it there. But the man in the trench coat wasn’t done. He took the Joker’s arms, and sliced them clean. The straps kept them in place as well.</p><p> </p><p>The man titled his head to the side, but seemed to decide that he was done. He cleaned his blade on the fabric of the straight jacket, which was already stained blood red, and turned to leave the cell. He closed the door and locked it back like it was before, and then strode out of the Asylum just like he’d entered: through the front gates.</p><p> </p><p>No alarms were sounded, no security guards yelled for back up, no one knew the break in had occurred. Because all of that had been taken care of beforehand, planned out meticulously to make sure no one would stop him. Steel blue eyes glimmered behind the white lenses of a domino mask, the mask which sat upon his face, sharp ends tracing down to his jaw and covering his nose like a bird’s beak. Red feathers hung amongst the dark strands of his hair, tied in purposefully. He had finished the one thing no one had ever managed to finish before, at least, not without Batman’s inevitable intervention. But Batman did not intervene this time, because Batman did not know. No one would know... not until the sun rose over Gotham City and a nurse at the asylum approached the Joker’s cell to give him his daily meal. By then, the blood would have long since drained completely from the monster’s body and there would be no saving him.</p><p> </p><p>Cardinal pressed a button on the device he pulled from one of the many pockets in his trench coat, and his body began to shift and phase. Then, without so much as a sound, he slipped into the pocket dimension that he kept his base hidden in— away from the prying eyes of the Bat.</p><p> </p><p>He slowly stripped of the clothes he wore, took the red feathers from his hair, and the boots off his feet, before stepping into the shower where steaming hot water awaited him. He scrubbed any last blood from his skin, even though there was barely a drop to begin with, and washed his hair throughly, lathering the black locks with shampoo and conditioner that made his hair smell like the air after it rains. A small smile crossed his lips as he bathed, a feeling of accomplishment coursing through his veins.</p><p> </p><p>Stepping out of the shower, he toweled off, drying his skin and hair carefully, before wrapping the towel around his waist and leaving the bathroom, picking up his suit from tonight’s escapades. He placed the suit out on a table, for him to wash gently with a washcloth later, and then moved to the dresser. He dressed himself in black jeans that were just slightly loose on him and a hoodie with purple writing that read Welcome to Nightvale.</p><p> </p><p>Comfortable now, he ambled over to the computers whose keys were waiting for him. He began to type, slender fingers gracing over the keys with practiced ease.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Name: Jack Napier</p><p>      Note: Name never officially proven.</p><p>Age: Unknown</p><p>Height: 6 feet 3 inches</p><p>Gender: Male</p><p>Weight: ~192 pounds (87 kilograms)</p><p>Eye Color: Green</p><p>Hair Color: Green</p><p>Skin Tone: White</p><p>Alias: The Joker</p><p>Kill Count: 2,928 Confirmed Kills</p><p>      Note: Many Unconfirmed Cases Exist, Number Could Reach to ~3,500</p><p>Status: Deceased</p><p>      Note: Killed in Arkham Asylum</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Origins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Backstory timeee.....</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim Drake was 17 when his adoptive father Bruce Wayne was killed. He was also 17 when he traversed the world in search of him. He was still 17 when he proved that Bruce Wayne wasn’t truly dead, merely lost in time. He was 17 when he brought him back “from the dead” and 17 when he realized something very important about himself.</p><p> </p><p>No matter how much he tried to deny it, how many people he saved in an attempt to ignore the way he felt... there was a darkness inside him. An urge to kill. To end the criminals permanently instead of simply imprison them.</p><p> </p><p>Tim Drake was still 17 when he faked his own death. Well, it wasn’t as fake as most fake deaths, seeing as he did die. But that’s the lovely use of finding a meta human who’s ability is to create copies of people that are the same down to the DNA. The only downside is that the copies always, no matter what, find a way to commit suicide after 24 hours of existing.</p><p> </p><p>Tim Drake was still 17 when he watched his own funeral on the tv. He was 17 when he found himself at Ra’s al Ghul’s doorstep. He was 17 when Ra’s smiled and welcomed him with a gleeful “Detective.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim Drake didn’t believe in Ra’s ways, his methods, his philosophy, and he certainly didn’t want to be the next heir... but he let Ra’s believe that, because at the moment, Tim wanted training.</p><p> </p><p>It was his 18th birthday that he killed his first man, a despicable man from his past that killed his father. A man by the name of George “Digger” Harkness. Alias: Captain Boomerang. Tim had slit his throat without even a sound, and walked away to stand by Ra’s’ side, a feeling of sick pride in his gut.</p><p> </p><p>Tim’s deal with Ra’s was simple: You train me and make sure that Batman, and everyone else in the world, never finds out that I’m alive, then I’ll be your heir to the throne. Teach me and keep my secret and I’ll be yours.</p><p>Ra’s had given him a sick smile and told him that he had no intention of sharing him with the world. Tim had felt the shiver run down his spine at those words, but he knew Ra’s meant it. No matter how much Ra’s would want to brag that he’d taken away Batman’s poster child from him, he wouldn’t. Not until Tim gave the word.</p><p> </p><p>Tim had replaced Damian in a way. Ra’s called him “ابني” which was Arabic for “my son” and the smile on Tim’s face when he heard the term wasn’t as fake as he made himself believe.</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s trained Tim. He trained him to be his heir and that meant brutality in every sense of the word. Tim learned more ways to kill than Damian knew. He practiced with the bō each day, swords every other day, the bow and arrow on the days that he didn’t practice with the sword, and of course hand to hand combat was laced between that. When Ra’s had first handed him the sword, Tim had asked one simple question.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I add blades to my bō to make it lethal?”</p><p> </p><p>And Ra’s had smiled and promised him that he could do whatever he wanted.</p><p> </p><p>Training was unforgiving and harsh. He learned to kill, he learned to maim, and he learned to torture. But he also learned how to disarm and to fight in the way that only Ra’s knew. He learned how to take down several opponents with merely a few precise flicks of his wrists and pivots on his heels. Ra’s taught him language after language, he taught him science and mathematics and medicine and how to run the League of Assassins, and by extension, the world.</p><p> </p><p>Tim was 19 when Ra’s gave him a specially crafted bō staff. Collapsible, gleaming metal. Lightweight but heavy enough in his grasp to feel right. With a practiced flick of his wrists and the press of a button, blades would extend on either end of the bō, the precise weapon he’d asked of Ra’s a year ago.</p><p> </p><p>“The metal of your weapon is extremely rare. Only one weapon has previously been made of that metal, and it hangs above my bed. It’s lightweight and nearly indestructible, capable of absorbing shock better than any other material known on the planet. And you, ابني, have earned your place to wield such a priceless weapon. Take care of it. This will make you the ultimate killing machine.”</p><p> </p><p>And Tim did. It hadn’t taken him long to see why the metal was so special. It didn’t scratch, it didn’t burn, it didn’t chip or dull, no matter what he hit it on. A strike to a piece of solid steel with the bō had caused the steel to cave in on itself in the shape of his staff, while the weapon itself remained unharmed. Tim had barely even felt the blow himself.</p><p> </p><p>Part of Tim wondered, in his time in Ra’s’ lair, if Damian would have ever received this treatment. If Damian was ever referred to as fondly as Ra’s referred to him. If Damian sat at the long dinner table, across from Ra’s, sipping expensive wines and discussing their lessons from the day. Part of Tim suspected not, because if he had, then Damian likely would never have left.</p><p> </p><p>“Ra’s?” He asked, his voice strong but quiet. It sounded different than the way it had two years ago, he knew that for a fact.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, ابني?”</p><p> </p><p>“I understand that I have worked hard for my place here, that you trust me, and I fully intend to be your heir... however my mind plagues me with thoughts as of late.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh? Explain these thoughts to me, perhaps I can clear your troubled mind.” Ra’s replied, looking at him with a curious gaze.</p><p> </p><p>Tim sighed, “Would Damian have... received what I’ve received? I understand he was your heir as well... and I can only imagine that he would have gotten the same treatment as I.”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s hummed and sipped his wine, a glass of the one of the most expensive wines in the world, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, before answering. “Hmm, perhaps one day he would have. But Damian inherited Bruce Wayne’s soft heart, and that held him back from his true potential. But I can see it in you, Timothy... you have no such kindness. You are ruthless and unforgiving. I see it in your eyes when you kill, the pleasure it brings you. Damian was savage in attitude alone, but you hold your savagery behind your eyes, it gleams in your irises as you slit the throats of men. Had I not met you, seen your potential, then yes, I believe Damian would have eventually received something akin to my love... but you... ابني, you have earned my love. Undying and true.”</p><p> </p><p>Part of Tim wanted to shiver at the words, but the other part found himself grinning. “In that case, I assume a weapon such as the one you gifted me with would never have reached Damian’s hands.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh certainly not.” Ra’s replied.</p><p> </p><p>Tim kept his smile, and part of him, the Robin part, he assumed, wanted to throw up. But he didn’t, because that part of him was so small and insignificant now. He took another bite of his dinner before looking back to Ra’s. “You never questioned me on why I showed up at your doorstep after faking my death.” He pointed out.</p><p> </p><p>“I did not.”</p><p> </p><p>A silence filled the air. Tim spoke again, “I came to you because I knew you would teach me what I wanted to know. You would train my inner darkness, and I could accomplish my mission.”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s was staring at him with an intense gaze. “And what mission is that?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim sighed, took a sip of the wine, and set the glass down. “I want to... eventually, return to Gotham. I want to get rid of the criminals who plague the city. And then when I’m done, when I’ve completed my list, I want to come back here, and rule as your heir.” The problem with the statement, was that the end wasn’t a lie anymore. Two years ago, when he’d first arrived, he’d only intended to use Ra’s for his knowledge and skill. But now, Tim wanted more. The League of Assassins could be his and he could rule it how he wanted. And if he wanted, he could turn it into a organization for good. True good, not whatever twisted sense of it they have now.</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s hummed, “That’s an ambitious goal, Detective. May I ask who’s on your list?”</p><p> </p><p>“The Joker, Scarecrow, Black Mask, Riddler, and many many more. So far the list is at 82 people, though I have no doubt that the number will continue to rise. I’ve been watching Gotham. The criminals that arise, the ones that fall. More criminals are being made than are dying, and while some go to Arkham or Blackgate, they always escape.”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s gaze was alight with interest, and Tim knew in that moment that Ra’s wasn’t going to turn him down. “You will need to prepare, ابني. The Detective will not let you complete such a lofty goal. And I’ve no doubt that he will eventually figure out who you are, or rather, who you were. And when that happens, he will do everything in his power to get you to stop.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim nodded, “I know. That’s why I’ve waited so long. Or... perhaps that’s why I still hesitate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Surely by now you are confident enough in your skills to know how to take him down.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know how to, but he’s not one of the people on my list. None of my family are. I don’t want to harm anyone who doesn’t deserve it. And Batman, despite the fact that I find his methods ineffective, has done good for Gotham. He is a hero and I respect that.” Tim said, knowing that his bold choice of words could easily earn him a reprimand. But that was the thing about his time with Ra’s. Never once had he been beaten for messing up. Never once has he experienced brutality that wasn’t meant to train him, to make him better and stronger. But still, he remembered the way Damian would flinch if he messed up, the way he proclaimed that “Grandfather would never accept this!” at any motion made towards heroism.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, Ra’s nodded along, and Tim realized that Ra’s really did see him as different than Damian. “I understand your hesitation, Timothy. He is a part of your past, a mentor and a father, and while I see you as my son, he sees you as the same. Facing him will not be easy, but I do not doubt your resolve. Just because I have taught you how to kill, does not mean I have not taught you other ways to take a man down. I know you will prevail in your mission, because you have never failed to succeed in whatever you set your mind to, and with that knowledge I can confidently say that I will help you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You will?” Tim asked, surprised.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I can provide you with ways to keep yourself hidden from the Detective’s gaze. In addition, I can provide any other resources you may need.” Ra’s offered. Tim blinked, trying to process the words he’d just heard.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean, keep myself hidden?”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s picked up a pice of meat with his fork, “After our meal, Timothy. After our meal, I will show you what I’ve been working on.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim nodded, and continued to eat.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“So... what does it do?” Tim asked, holding the small, disc shaped device.</p><p> </p><p>“It opens a small portal to a pocket dimension. Separate from ours, but close enough that the person inside can view this dimension without interacting with it. It’s taken several years to perfect, and my scientists are still testing it, but I initially had it created for two reasons. One, for spying. You see, the pocket dimension is nearly impossible to detect. Unless you know exactly what you are looking for, then you won’t think much of the few decimal places that change as a result of the presence of the pocket dimension. Two, to hide you in on the occasion that the Detective shows his face here.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim raised an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“You asked me to keep your secret, however if the Detective ever decides to show up here, he would undoubtedly find you, no matter how good you’ve become at stealth. I wanted a way to hide you so that even the Detective wouldn’t be able to find you. And this pocket dimension is exactly the way.” Ra’s explained.</p><p> </p><p>Tim nodded, “I see. So, what can the person inside interact with?”</p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t I show you?” Ra’s grinned, before pressing the button at the center and grabbing onto Tim’s arm.</p><p> </p><p>Tim had expected an actual portal to open, but it seemed that they were the ones shifting. Their bodies phased in and out, before stabilizing. Tim noticed the way the atmosphere seemed different, slightly heavier, perhaps. It wasn’t very noticeable, but right now he was noticing everything.</p><p> </p><p>“So, can I go anywhere?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, no unfortunately not. The pocket dimension extends 500 feet in any direction from the epicenter of where you enter, after that you will not be able to walk further. We’ve tested that doing so will either throw you back into the normal universe in a very unpleasant fashion, or will rip you apart cell by cell.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I recommend you stay away from the edges.” Ra’s walked forward through the room, which looked exactly the same as it had a minute ago, but Tim knew it was entirely different. “From what we’ve tested, the physics of the pocket dimension work the same. You can train in here, sleep in here, bathe in here, the list goes on. Whatever you do in here will not affect the outside world. If you were to go into the bathroom and flood the floor, the bathroom in the normal world would not be affected. However, if you return, the bathroom will still be flooded.”</p><p> </p><p>“So... theoretically I could have an entire hidden base inside the pocket dimension.” Tim theorized.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, that seems to be the case.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://justthatonegirl1815.tumblr.com/post/619015518433738752/show-chapter-archive">Cardinal Suit</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Soldier or Son?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is Timmy sort of an unreliable narrator here? Yes, he is. Enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim Drake exited the pocket dimension that his base was hidden in, adorned in civilian clothing, with his hair tied back into a low bun and brown colored contacts on his eyes to help provide some sort of a disguise. He walked down the street casually, hands in the pockets of his jeans, on his way to the coffee shop that he’d missed desperately in the last three years.</p><p>He hadn’t been back long, merely a week. Last night, he’d killed the Joker, the first person on his list. Based on his estimates, someone would find the body within the next two hours. In the meantime, Tim was going to get some coffee (a drink he’d become un-addicted to in the last three years) (Ra’s had given him several lectures on why pulling four all-nighters in a row and drinking the amount of coffee he did would hinder his improvement) (Who knew Ra’s could be such a dad?) (It’s not like Tim had any other choice other than to gradually stop drinking coffee, because Ra’s picked his meals and if Ra’s said no coffee, then he didn’t get any coffee). Still, Ra’s let him drink coffee occasionally, especially after Tim did something worth celebration, and Tim considered this a celebratory moment. Therefore, coffee.</p><p> </p><p>He opened the door to the cafe, and was immediately hit with the perfect scent of coffee and baked goods. He smiled, yeah, he’d missed this. Walking up to the counter, he knew his order without even looking at the menu, though he did check to make sure that they still served it. They did.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, I’m Emily, what can I get you today?” The barista asked, a bright but clearly fake smile on her face.</p><p> </p><p>“Dead Eye Coffee, small, and a blueberry muffin please.” He ordered. He remembered the day he first walked in here, after pulling several all nighters working on a serial killer case that even Bruce couldn’t figure out, and he’d desperately needed the caffeine fix. He’d seen “Dead Eye Coffee” as an option and immediately ordered it. After that, it’d become his go-to drink.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. Is that all for you today?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, that’s all. Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alrighty, handsome. That’ll be $4.79.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim blushed at the compliment, before handing over a five dollar bill. “Keep the change.” He told her. In the three years he’d been gone, Tim got used to the only sort compliment he received being ‘Wonderful, Detective. You executed that kill with such finesse.’</p><p> </p><p>Tim chuckled under his breath at the thought as he moved to the side to let the next person order. He let his mind drift for a moment, wondering what he was going to do with his day. For whatever reason, he kinda wanted to visit his grave, which was probably a sick thing to say, but here he was, wanting to see what they had written on his headstone. Or had they cremated him? Was he just a jar of ashes in the living room? Oh god, was his suit hung up in the batcave?</p><p> </p><p>“Sir?”</p><p> </p><p>He looked to where another barista, male this time with blonde hair and tan skin (for Gotham, anyways. Where it’s impossible to tan because the sun shines, like, once in a blue moon). The barista looked concerned for him, and Tim noticed he was holding out Tim’s order. “Sorry, lost in my thoughts.” He said, giving a quick smile and taking the food. “Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem,” The other man said.</p><p> </p><p>Tim unwrapped the muffin and walked out of the shop, deciding that, yes, he’d go visit his grave... if it existed. He assumed his grave would be next to Jason’s, but he’d never actually checked. It was almost funny, Tim had watched Gotham for the past three years, checking in on his family members via hacking the computer systems, and he’d been watching the crime rates, but he didn’t actually know what had happened to his copy’s body after it had died. All Tim knew was that Bruce actually believed he was dead, which was surprising in their family, seeing as no one stayed dead for long. Not only that, but Bruce hadn’t raided Ra’s al Ghul’s place in an attempt to bring him back to life.</p><p> </p><p>...wait.</p><p>...Bruce hadn’t tried to bring him back.</p><p> </p><p>Tim veered off to an alley, not trusting his legs to keep him standing. He’d never thought about that before. He leaned against the wall, sliding down it slowly. Suddenly his celebration coffee tasted much more bitter than he remembered.</p><p> </p><p>Bruce hadn’t tried to bring him back. Bruce... who had gone to the end of the world for Jason, who had almost killed the Joker over Jason... Bruce... who had revived Damian using the pit... hadn’t tried to do the same for Tim.</p><p> </p><p>Tim swallowed hard. His breath shook as he exhaled and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Bruce...</p><p> </p><p>Did Bruce even love him?</p><p> </p><p>Tim wanted to scream. Now the question was eating him alive. Did Bruce ever love him? Or was Tim just a tool? An asset to be used? Another brain to pick at? Tim pulled at his hair desperately, his breaths uneven.</p><p> </p><p>He pulled out his phone, opening the one contact he had in it. It was Ra’s, but he had labeled it as “Dad” because that was exponentially less suspicious than “The Demon’s Head”. He dialed the number.</p><p> </p><p>Two rings in and Ra’s answered. “ابني? Why are you calling?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim took a shaky breath, “Bruce never looked for me. He never tried to bring me back.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence met his statement.</p><p> </p><p>“Did— Did Bruce ever love me?”</p><p> </p><p>More silence. Tim wasn’t sure if Ra’s was even there anymore. “Ra’s?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure he loved you in his own way.” Ra’s eventually answered.</p><p> </p><p>Tim choked back a sob. That wasn’t the answer he needed to hear.</p><p> </p><p>The line went silent, but this time Tim could hear Ra’s steady breathing. Ra’s was purposefully breathing louder, so Tim matched his breaths to Ra’s’, trying to calm himself. Eventually, he stopped shaking and his tears stopped falling. “I... I killed the Joker last night. It felt good.” He reported.</p><p> </p><p>No. He chose to tell Ra’s this information. He wasn’t Ra’s’ soldier.</p><p> </p><p>“Good. And what led to you to your previous conclusion?” Ra’s asked. Tim took another steadying breath and readjusted his grip on the phone.</p><p> </p><p>“I dunno, was thinking about visiting my grave and then it all went downhill from there. I’m sorry I bothered you.” Tim apologized. Having a panic attack in front of the guy he was meant to be the heir to definitely wasn’t a good impression.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t need to apologize, my son.” Ra’s comforted. Tim paused. My son? As in the English version of saying it? What was Ra’s trying to get at here?</p><p> </p><p>“Ra’s?” He asked, his voice more weak than it had been in years. “Was Bruce ever really my dad... or was I just a soldier to him?”</p><p> </p><p>A sigh, “I’ve no idea of the Detective’s feelings towards you, Timothy. Whether you are son or soldier is a question you should ask him, but not until you’ve completed your mission, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim gulped, “Am I a soldier to you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Ra’s replied, without hesitation. “You are my heir, Timothy. I am more proud of you than anyone I’ve ever trained. I have given you my life’s work, and I know you will do great things with it. You’ve certainly never been a soldier to me, ابني.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim felt a tear slip from his eye, “Thank you, بابا.” He responded in kind, using the Arabic term for Dad. It felt foreign on his tongue, but maybe it wasn’t wrong.</p><p> </p><p>He heard the concealed way Ra’s sucked in a breath, and Tim hung up before Ra’s could say anything about the endearing term that he’d just used. Tim pulled himself to his feet and grabbed his coffee cup off the ground. The muffin was a complete loss now, laying on the alley floor, half destroyed by Tim’s previous death grip on it.</p><p>Tim wiped his tears, took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee, and left the alleyway. Tim had work to do, and right now, that work begin with checking out his grave. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I promise, there’s action coming up, there’s a lot of it, we’ll get back to Timmy being a badass soon</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Tim Drake is a Dead Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was only one security camera for the cemetery, and it was at the front gates. Easy to avoid, just don’t use the front gates. Tim went around the back, making sure to check for any hidden cameras or anything that looked like Bruce might’ve installed some form of security here. But he found nothing.</p>
<p>Tim walked through the graves, his feet not making a single sound in the grass, though the silence of his steps was pointless seeing as it was the middle of the day. Best way to not look suspicious it to not act suspicious. Tim had bought several bouquets of roses and now placed a flower at each grave he passed. He glanced at the names, would spend longer at some than others. He even recognized a few of the people from cases he’d worked on previously. He moved slowly, but eventually he came to the graves he was simultaneously excited for, and dreading.</p>
<p>The four graves were larger than the others, more fancy. It was clear that more money had been spent on them. On the far right, Thomas Wayne. Tim placed a flower. Next, Martha Wayne. Tim placed another flower. He stared at the two graves, not daring to look further to the left to see the others.</p>
<p>Several minutes passed before he found the strength to look to the next one. <em>Jason Todd Wayne. Beloved son, ally, and friend</em>. Tim gulped. It was so fucking impersonal. So fucking fake. No wonder Jason hated it. Tim’s eyes snapped to the next one without hesitation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Timothy Drake Wayne. Beloved son, ally, and friend</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fuck that. Tim threw his last flowers on the two graves and booked it out of there.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim had another thing to do today. He pulled open his laptop and began the familiar, yet very tedious, process of hacking into the Batcave. This time though, he didn’t want the databases. No. He wanted the one thing he’d always avoided. The security cams.</p>
<p>It took several hours to bypass all the firewalls, make sure Oracle didn’t catch wind of him, cover all of his tracks, and make sure that no one, and he meant no one, would know he was prying. There were only so many people in the world who could hack into the Batcave system. And by so many, Tim meant 3. Cyborg, Oracle, and himself. Okay, well Dick, Damian, Jason, and Bruce could probably do it too if they tried, but Tim meant hack in undetected and completely cover their tracks. That was limited to about three people. If he got caught, Bruce would get suspicious. Which was why he took his sweet time with the codes and algorithms. He wasn’t going to fuck this up just because he was curious.</p>
<p>But then, three hours and a snack break later, Tim was in. There were several security cameras in the cave, because Bruce was just as paranoid as Tim was (Or maybe Tim was as paranoid as Bruce?) and therefore, security was everywhere.</p>
<p>The first camera feed he looked at was the one attached directly to the Batcomputer, it showed a view of the center of the cave and, obviously, whoever was sitting at the computer. But, it also showed the display case Jason’s suit had been kept in.</p>
<p>The first thing Tim noticed was that many, many more people were in the Cave than he expected. And by many more, he meant most of the family.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bruce, Dick, Jason, Duke, Damian, Steph, and Alfred. Fuck, Tim wasn’t ready to see all of them so soon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>From what Tim knew, Cass was in Hong Kong currently. Also, Steph had been taking a break from vigilante life to focus on college, so Tim wasn’t sure why she was here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Actually that was wrong. Tim knew exactly why all of them were here. He knew exactly why their shoulders were stiff and why they were yelling at each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim turned on the audio.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“WHY THE HELL DO YOU THINK I DID IT?” Jason yelled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“MAYBE BECAUSE YOU HAVE A HISTORY IN TRYING TO KILL THE JOKER?” Steph yelled back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“GUYS!” Dick yelled. “None of us are saying you did it, Jason. None of us know who killed him. Maybe it’s not even someone we’ve heard of.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason huffed, “I didn’t kill him, but I fucking wish I did.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bruce stepped forward, “I doubt you could’ve done this, Jason.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. Tim noticed that Bruce looked older, much older. Bruce looked like the three years had been more like 10. “No offense, but whoever did this... they covered their tracks. The video feeds were looped beforehand, on a 24 hour cycle so that no one would notice it was looped. The security guards and everyone else inside the Asylum were drugged with a substance that activated several hours after it entered their systems, and I can’t trace it either. Whatever this person drugged them with, it doesn’t exist in any of my databases—“ <em>I know</em>, Tim thought. <em>That was purposeful</em>. “—Any of you would have a hard time finding something like that. They left no tracks, no evidence that they were even there other than the body and the few security guards and nurses who were on guard. But said people didn’t wake up until several hours after and also didn’t realize anything was wrong until they were questioned about it later. Joker’s cell was locked back exactly the way it was beforehand. Whoever this was, they weren’t trying to make a point, they clearly weren’t trying to brag that they killed the Joker, they just wanted him dead.” Bruce concluded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a silence in the cave, but Tim, on the other side of the screen, was grinning. He wanted so badly to connect his audio to the Caves just so he could mess with them, but he didn’t.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So...” Duke spoke up. “What you’re saying is, whoever this is, is dangerous. And we have nothing we can use to figure out who they are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bruce nodded, “I’ve already combed through all the evidence there is, but until this person acts again, we’ve got nothing. Not even a partial footprint. No one saw them, no one heard them. The drugged people didn’t report anything strange about their morning. One of them even made all of his own food and ate it at home, meaning I’ve no idea how he was drugged, so we’ve got even less to work with.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The cave was quiet again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whoever this is, they’re a genius. Arkham has some of the best security systems in the world since we had it updated two years ago. To hack into it like that... I only know two people who could do that.” Dick half-whispered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And who would that be?” Damian asked. Tim tilted his head as he looked at Damian. He was tall. Very tall. His shoulders had gotten broader and he looked scarily like Bruce. His suit had been redesigned too. It was black, red, and green with a chest harness that was a lot like Tim’s old one, though this one was still marked with the Robin R.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Babs and Cyborg.” Dick answered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tim would have been able to do it too,” Steph added, voice sounding hoarse all of the sudden.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was more silence. “Should... should we check his grave?” Jason asked. “Make sure he’s still...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bruce straightened his shoulders, “We need to. If we don’t make sure that he’s dead, then we could have a problem on our hands. Tim is— was— a genius, and if he’s under the influence of a Lazarus pit...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They all knew what that meant. But Tim knew something even more important. He had faked his death very, very well. If they dug up his grave, his copy’s body would still be there, which meant that Tim Drake was off the list of suspects.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Which meant he could have the fun he’d been wanting to have ever since he turned on the video camera.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim could see his suit in the display case, the fabric of the Red Robin suit was shining, and it made Tim sick. He wasn’t Red Robin anymore. Hell, Tim knew how much he had changed physically in the last three years. The suit wouldn’t fit him at all anymore, and he knew for a fact that he didn’t want it to.</p>
<p>Tim was comfortable in the new suit he had, the long black trench coat with red x’s running along the edges. The domino mask that he’d worn during his time in the Ünternet. The clothes designed especially for him, concealing gadgets in more than the utility belt around his waist. The clothes that had extra padding where he needed it, because a bō had two ends, and the user often gets struck with their own weapon as a result.</p>
<p>The Red Robin suit might have been on display, but part of Tim felt like maybe it was meant to be there. It was a reminder for Tim of how much he had changed. <em>Why</em> he had changed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The group of vigilantes that he used to be apart of continued to discuss ideas, who he could be, and Tim began to type. His fingers knew the keyboard just as well as he knew his bō, and soon he had the done what he needed to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lights, and all electronic devices in the Cave (including the Batcomputer, but excluding the camera Tim was currently using) all shut down. He heard the slight panic from his family, and then turned them all back on with a quick motion of his fingers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He could see their wide eyes, the realization dawning on them. Tim opened an audio channel, making sure to cover his tracks so that even Oracle wouldn’t be able to find any evidence of him ever even being here in the first place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bruce Wayne,” his voice drawled out, slow and steady. Tim’s voice had changed too, just like the rest of him. He spoke slower, more confidently now. His voice had gotten deeper and he’d managed to entirely get rid of his native Gotham accent in the past few years. He sounded nothing like Tim Drake, which was why he didn’t bother trying to mask his voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bruce’s shoulders were stiff, looking at the computer which Tim knew was showing the wavering green lines of an audio message. “Dick Grayson... Jason Todd... Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown, Damian Al Ghul Wayne... Alfred Pennyworth.” He spoke, watching the alarm set in on their features. Tim grinned sardonically. “Yes, I know who you are. I know <em>where</em> you are.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian growled at him, and wow, the demon brat might have changed physically, but his threats were still the same. “Who do you think you are—?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who do I think I am?” Tim cut in. He chuckled, making sure they heard the lilt to his tone, the mocking way he responded to Damian’s outburst. “I’m the man who killed the Joker.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He could see the way Jason looked at Dick, and Tim, a person who had been on the receiving end of such a gaze more times than he’d actually been spoken to, knew what it meant. Jason was silently saying, “<em>He knows everything about us, and we know nothing about him</em>.” Dick nodded in response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Call me Cardinal. It’s not a name that’s purposefully bird themed to mock you, I just like the way it sounds. Now, this isn’t a threat, Bats... no, this is... something of a warning. I have a list, and right now, your name isn’t currently on it. Nor are the names of any of your comrades. But cross me, try and stop me, and your names will join the others I’ve assigned to the slaughter. Does that make sense?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He could see the way the people in the cave seemed to consider it. Jason stepped forward, “That’s big talk coming from someone who’s just an audio message.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim chuckled, “You want to see my face? To put a haircut to the killer?” He asked. Good thing his suit was right next to him. He began to dress silently, because frankly this seemed like way too much fun to turn down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s right,” Jason said. Tim saw the way that everyone looked at Jason, not believing what he was doing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know, I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for you, Red Hood.” He spoke, continuing to dress carefully. “After all, you kill just like me. You’ve even tried for the Joker. Shame you didn’t finish the job.” Tim snarked. He placed the domino mask over his face, and then began tying the feathers into his hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason growled at him, “Is that a no?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Certainly not, I’m merely making sure my tracks are covered. Can’t have Oracle finding me, now can we?” Tim replied, beginning to type again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Damian replied. “Sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim chuckled again, finishing up his last few lines of code. He hit enter and knew that his face, or rather, the Cardinal mask and outfit, were displayed across the screen of the Batcomputer. He spread his gloved hands, “There we go. Happy now, Hood?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They were all studying him, carefully. “That was fast,” Bruce commented. “Not many people would be able to hack into the cave system and keep Oracle out at the same time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim shrugged, “Hmm, you said that about Arkham too, but in my opinion, that was child’s play. Same with hacking into here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you were listening,” Dick spoke up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim grinned, “Well, I just had to see how my resident Bats were taking the Joker’s demise. The answer seems to be pretty badly. Tell me, are you planning a funeral for him? Will he be buried in the Gotham Cemetery alongside poor Martha, Thomas, and Tim? Wouldn’t that be a sight.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason was angry, he could tell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! I apologize, Hood. I forgot that your grave is there too, I guess it’s just because your body isn’t really there anymore. But don’t worry, I set a flower down on your grave too when I visited this morning.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He saw the way they stiffened, realizing that Tim had visited the resting place of three (four?) (two?) of their family members.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You visited my grave?” Jason asked quietly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well it only felt right to honor the dead,” Tim lied. “Besides, just because I kill people doesn’t mean I’m heartless. I know how to pay my respects. And I figured, if I was going to sit here and talk to all of you, to see those display cases with the suits, I might as well do something nice for those you’ve lost.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He saw the way that some of them looked to the Red Robin suit in the case, the way others purposefully didn’t look at it. “Are you Tim Drake?” Damian asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim paused, tilting his head. “Tim Drake is buried six feet under the ground in Gotham Cemetery. His body has been there for three years, three years after he killed himself in his own home. I’m not Tim Drake, because Tim Drake is a dead man.... or, should I say boy? After all, he never made it to his 18th birthday.”</p>
<p>Tim knew it was harsh, but seeing as he was talking about himself, he figured he could say whatever the fuck he wanted. He could see the pain in the eyes of his family, but there was one person he found himself staring at. Bruce. Bruce, who’s eyes betrayed no emotion. Bruce, who was only proving Tim’s earlier conclusion right. He’d left them all speechless, so Tim decided to speak once again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tell me, Batman.” He spit the name out like poison. “Did you even love him?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bruce growled at him, low and menacing. Tim raised his hands in faux surrender, “Okay, okay. Just a question from a curious mind. Of course you love your children.” He glanced down at the wrist computer on his arm. “My my, look at the time, I’ve got to go. Murder plans don’t write themselves, after all!” Tim joked, smiling. And then he began to type. “But if you don’t believe me, feel free to check his grave yourself. I haven’t touched it beyond the placement of a flower. In fact, I doubt anyone’s touched it in years.” And with that, Tim disconnected the feed, the audio, everything. He’d gotten his answer, and he got to have some fun. Not only that, but he’d also made sure that Tim Drake isn’t a suspect on their list anymore.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He spent the next thirty minutes making sure to cover his tracks, pulling all the stops to keep himself invisible. Oracle couldn’t find him even if she tried.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He felt an odd sense of pride in himself. He wasn’t expecting it, he’d honestly thought talking to his family again would be worse than it was, that he’d end up like he was this morning, mid panic attack and unable to pull himself away from his thoughts.</p>
<p>But no, Tim was safe. Tim had done it. And now, he knew Ra’s was right. Tim would finish his mission.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Case File</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Name: Carmine Falcone</p>
<p>Age: 69 years</p>
<p>Height: 6 feet 3 inches</p>
<p>Gender: Male</p>
<p>Weight: ~192 pounds (87 kilograms)</p>
<p>Eye Color: Brown</p>
<p>Hair Color: Silver</p>
<p>     Note: Hair color is due to old age</p>
<p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p>
<p>Alias: The Roman</p>
<p>Kill Count: 412 Confirmed Kills</p>
<p>     Note: Many Unconfirmed Cases Exist, Number Could Reach to ~600</p>
<p>Status: Alive</p>
<p>     Note: Current Leader of Falcone Crime Family</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Name: Harvey Dent</p>
<p>Age: 30 years</p>
<p>Height: 6 feet 0 inches</p>
<p>Gender: Male</p>
<p>Weight: ~182 pounds (82.5 kilograms)</p>
<p>Eye Color: Brown</p>
<p>Hair Color: Brown</p>
<p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p>
<p>     Note: Face is half burnt due to an explosion. The above description only applies to the right half of his face.</p>
<p>Alias: Two Face</p>
<p>Kill Count: 82</p>
<p>     Note: Dent chooses his kills by flipping a coin. Heads equals life, Tails equals death.</p>
<p>Status: Alive</p>
<p>     Note: Previously Imprisoned in Arkham Asylum, Escaped on June 10, 2022. Whereabouts unknown.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case Filed Opened</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Name: Kathryn Monroe</p>
<p>Age: Unknown</p>
<p>     Note: This is due to her being a member of the Court of Owls</p>
<p>Height: 6 feet 0 inches</p>
<p>Gender: Female</p>
<p>Weight: ~142 pounds (64 kilograms)</p>
<p>Eye Color: Grey</p>
<p>Hair Color: Blonde</p>
<p>      Note: Often referred to as “The White Haired Woman”</p>
<p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p>
<p>Alias: The White Haired Woman</p>
<p>      Note: The name needs work</p>
<p>Kill Count:Unknown</p>
<p>Status: Alive</p>
<p>      Note: Represents and runs the Court of Owls</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>Edit</strong>: Carmine Falcone</p>
<p>Status: Deceased</p>
<p>     Note: Killed by the Cardinal (via decapitation) on August 17, 2022</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><strong>Edit</strong>: Harvey Dent</p>
<p>Status: Deceased</p>
<p>      Note: Killed by the Cardinal (via decapitation) on August 18, 2022</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Case File Opened</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>Edit</b>: Kathryn Monroe</p>
<p>Status: Deceased</p>
<p>     Note: Killed by the Cardinal (via decapitation) on August 19, 2022</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Case File Closed</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Monarch Theater</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whaaaat? Two updates in two days? <br/>(It’s cause the chapter that was supposed to be today was 300 words long and not actually a chapter in my opinion, so I’m double updating)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim’s bō was strong enough to bend steel, therefore decapitating heads was painfully easy. Most weapons would get stuck on the muscles or bone of the neck seeing as the neck is literally built to keep a person’s brain connected to everything else and therefore is not meant to be cut in half, but Tim’s blades did it with ease. One slice and there goes the head.</p><p>With the Joker, he’d taken his time, used a long dagger instead of his bō blades so he could really drag it on, but with his latest victims, Tim just wanted them dead. No theatrics about it. He’d find them, walk in, slice their head clean off their shoulders, and leave.</p><p>That, of course, was for his victims that actually got to meet him in person.Lower level criminals, but ones who were potentially too dangerous to be kept alive, underwent Tim’s literal “Murder Plans”.</p><p>That meant, he’d design a path for them based on their physiological profile and previous actions. If they continued on the route of crime and doing exactly what Tim believed they would, then they would bring themselves to their own demise. However, if they did the morally correct thing at least once along the metaphorical path, then they’d get to go free. Of course, Tim kept an eye on them, but mostly they’d be safe from his blades.</p><p>It was the same strategy he’d used on Captain Boomerang the first time Tim had tried to kill him, except Tim had let Batman talk him out of it that time.</p><p>So, in addition to his house calls, Tim had killed a total of 9 people in his first week in Gotham. He had several other murder plans laid out for other lower level criminals, and was currently tracking the whereabouts of the Riddler for his next house call.</p><p>The time that Tim didn’t spend in the pocket dimension, making plans and exercising, was spent out in Gotham City, under disguise.</p><p>Tim had “borrowed” an image inducer from STAR Labs ages ago for a mission with the Teen Titans, and had forgotten to give it back (blame sleep deprivation), and then he’d ended up using it to escape Gotham unnoticed and was now currently using it to make it seem like he had blonde hair and blue eyes and freckled skin. Made things easier to look basically the opposite of what he normally looked like.</p><p> </p><p>Tim knew that he couldn’t just kill all of the criminals in Gotham— you can’t just kill crime, it doesn’t work like that— so he was working on a few other projects. Most crime is born out of necessity. People who can’t afford to pay for things steal, and stealing leads to worse crimes as time goes on. Bruce Wayne knew this, and therefore employed as many ex-criminals as he could and also had the Martha and Thomas Wayne Foundations to help the citizens of Gotham. Tim was following that general path, but in his own way.</p><p> </p><p>It started with Monarch Theater, Tim’s old base as Red Robin. He’d refurbished the inside to suit his needs, but now Tim was going to refurbish... everything. Okay, refurbish was a nice word. Tim was basically going to tear down the entire building and have it rebuilt.</p><p>Which would take time, but Tim had plenty. He’d waited three years to begin this mission, he was okay waiting a few more months for the building to be fixed up for him.</p><p> </p><p>First step: clear out his old base. Good news: there wasn’t much to clean out seeing as it seemed like one of the Bats had already done that for him. Probably Jason or Dick since he hadn’t told anyone else where his base was.</p><p> </p><p>Second Step: Avoid any and all nostalgia while in said old base</p><p> </p><p>Third Step: Notice that there’s a picture on his old desk.</p><p> </p><p>Wait what?</p><p> </p><p>Tim tilted his head to the side and approached the picture. It was of Tim and Jason. They were hugging and <em>god</em>, Tim remembered this photo. It was taken the day after Tim and Jason had completed an undercover mission together, and successfully managed to take down an entire human trafficking operation. Jason had invited Tim back to his place for celebratory dinner and Tim had happily accepted. They’d gone back, eaten the fettuccine alfredo Jason made and sat on the couch. Tim had asked if he could take a photo, to “remember this by” and Jason had begrudgingly agreed. Right before he’d snapped the photo, someone in the apartment next door had yelled, “FUCK YOU MARIO” and it had been so unexpected that Tim and Jason had broken out into uncontrollable laughter. Tim had clung onto Jason in an attempt to remember how to breathe, and snapped the photo on accident. It was his favorite photo and he’d given it to Jason as a Welcome-back-from-the-dead anniversary gift.</p><p> </p><p>He smiled sadly at the photo. There was a note attached to the bottom of the frame. Tim gently unfolded it.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hey Replacement. If you’re reading this than that means you’re alive again. I know what its like to be scared and alone after coming back from the dead, so don’t be afraid to come to me okay? I know it’s farfetched, to assume you’ll come back, but I don’t know what else to do right now, kid. I miss you so much, and it’s only been a month since you died. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not good enough or anything like that. I just... want you back. I’ve never let myself cry over people, because that was always a sign of weakness to me, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop crying over you. I was the last person in the family that was told about your death and I haven’t really handled it well. Was this my fault? Did I do something wrong? I hope, god I hope, that one day you’ll come back and you’ll read this. I don’t care how different you are, if you’re Tim, then I want to see you. Fuck that, I want to give you a hug. A huge one. And then I want to make you dinner and I want you to talk to me about why the hell you killed yourself. So if you’re reading this Timmy, come back to me.</em></p><p><em>—Jason.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>A stray tear fell on the page as Tim read the note, and he stared at it. He couldn’t go see Jason, no matter how much he wanted to. Jason might be his favorite person in the family, his favorite big brother, but Tim couldn’t see him.</p><p> </p><p>He looked down to the note, “I want to give you a hug too, Jay.” He whispered, so quietly that he could barely even hear it himself.</p><p> </p><p>He set the picture frame and the note into his bag of things that he was going to take back to his new base. And then he continued on.</p><p> </p><p>Soon, the entire base was clear and Tim had only a small bag of things from his past to bring back to his new base. The photo and note, his old bō, his skateboard, and his camera. He brought all of them back home shamelessly, even putting the skateboard on the ground and rolling down the sidewalk in the pocket dimension as he checked his phone and made a few adjustments to the plan he’d written out for his next moves in Gotham.</p><p> </p><p>He dialed a number, the only number in his phone. Two rings in, just like always, and Ra’s picked up. “I see you’re making an impression in Gotham, Detective.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim hummed his agreement, “I’d better be. I didn’t come here to pull any punches.”</p><p> </p><p>“Certainly not,” Ra’s replied. “Why are you calling?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim shrugged, “I need to make an investment.”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s seemed confused, an expression he never wears, “I’m sure you are more than capable of handling that yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim nodded, “Well, this one is a bit more drastic. I want to buy, demolish, and rebuild Monarch Theater.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence met his statement.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I don’t want to rebuild the theater. I want to build a building in its place.” Tim explained further.</p><p> </p><p>“I see. I’ll make the arrangements and you can go over them by nightfall in Gotham.” Ra’s said and Tim grinned.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the best, you know that?” Tim responded.</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s didn’t answer, merely hung up the phone and left Tim to continue to roll slowly down the sidewalk.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>An email was sent to Tim that night, informing him that he’d officially bought Monarch Theater and that the Theater was set for demolition beginning in two days.</p><p> </p><p>Tim smiled into his drink, jasmine tea, and began to make the blueprints for the building he wanted to replace the theater with.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Riddle Me This</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Name: Edward Nigma</p><p>      Note: Also responds to “Eddie” or “Ed”</p><p>      Note: Formerly “Edward Nashton”</p><p>      Note: Name is occasionally shortened to “E. Nigma” which is an unfortunate pun on the word “enigma”, meaning puzzle.</p><p>Age: 30</p><p>Height: 6 feet 1 inch</p><p>Gender: Male</p><p>Weight: ~183 pounds (83 kilograms)</p><p>Eye Color: Green</p><p>Hair Color: Brown</p><p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p><p>Alias: The Riddler</p><p>Kill Count:373 Confirmed Kills</p><p>       Note: Number of kills could reach to ~500</p><p>Status: Alive</p><p>       Note: Is listed in “Rogue Gallery” of Gotham, an unofficial list of criminals. Often works alongside other Gotham Rogues.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Riddle me this,” Nigma cooed. “Why are you like a clock at midnight?”</p><p> </p><p>He pointed his cane to the man in front of him, a weak, pathetic old man who wasn’t going to last the night.</p><p> </p><p>“You better answer quickly, Mr. Van Jones. Time is a ticking.” He strolled closer, pulling the gun out of his coat. “Shall I answer for you?”</p><p> </p><p>The man’s eyes widened as the Riddler leveled the firearm to the man’s head. “Because both of your hands are going up. Straight up. Right. Now.”</p><p> </p><p>The man hastily raised both of his hands, and Nigma walked forward, cuffing the man’s hands with a gleeful smile on his face. He stuffed a rag into the man’s mouth and he whimpered around the fabric. Something along the lines of, “Please, don’t kill me. Please.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s that you say? I’m sorry Mr. Van Jones, but I don’t remember asking you a question.” Riddler grinned down at him. “But I’ll humor you. Riddle me this...”</p><p> </p><p>Nigma raised the gun and pointed it at the man’s head. “What has ten fingers but not ten seconds?”</p><p> </p><p>The man whimpered further, trying to beg for his life.</p><p> </p><p>“The answer: You.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>A dark chuckle sounded from the shadows. Nigma turned, confused. No one else was supposed to be here...</p><p> </p><p>The Cardinal stepped forward into the dim lighting of the apartment. He’d let the Riddler kill Van Jones for a reason, but that didn’t mean Riddler was going to get away either.</p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?” Riddler asked, intrigued. “Another toy for me to play with? Meow.”</p><p> </p><p>Cardinal drew his bō, letting the razor sharp blades extend from inside the metal to catch the light. “Afraid not, Nigma.”</p><p> </p><p>Riddler smirked, “Oh? Then why have you brought a knife to a gun fight?”</p><p> </p><p>Cardinal swung the blade with practiced ease, slicing off Nigma’s hand with deft ease, causing the gun to go clattering to the ground. He placed the tip of his blade underneath the Riddler’s chin, the bloodied metal staining Nigma’s pale skin. “I think the better question is... riddle me this...”</p><p> </p><p>Nigma’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening.</p><p> </p><p>“What begins with R and ends in blood?”</p><p> </p><p>Slice.</p><p> </p><p>“Riddler.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Name: Edward Nigma</p><p>      Note: Also responds to “Eddie” or “Ed”</p><p>      Note: Formerly “Edward Nashton”</p><p>      Note: Name is occasionally shortened to “E. Nigma” which is an unfortunate pun on the word “enigma”, meaning puzzle.</p><p>Age: 30</p><p>Height: 6 feet 1 inch</p><p>Gender: Male</p><p>Weight: ~183 pounds (83 kilograms)</p><p>Eye Color: Green</p><p>Hair Color: Brown</p><p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p><p>Alias: The Riddler</p><p>Kill Count:373 Confirmed Kills</p><p>      Note: Number of kills could reach to ~500</p><p>Status: Deceased</p><p>      Note: Killed by the Cardinal (via decapitation) on August 21, 2022</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Destruction of the Past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim heard the yelling before he saw it.</p><p> </p><p>“THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”</p><p> </p><p>The answer though was too quiet for him to hear. But that voice... he knew that voice.</p><p> </p><p>Tim sped up to a jog, rounding the corner of the street to see the construction sight where Monarch Theater was currently being torn down. And, standing in front of one of the machines, yelling at anyone who would listen, was Jason Todd.</p><p> </p><p>“YOU CAN’T JUST TEAR THIS PLACE DOWN! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sir, we are just doing our jobs. We were hired to demolish this building and clear the rubble by the end of the week.” One of the workers told him calmly. Tim sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. What was Jason doing?</p><p> </p><p>“WHO THE FUCK HIRED YOU THEN? I WANT TO TALK TO THEM!”</p><p> </p><p>And suddenly Tim was very glad he’d set his image inducer to make him look like what he’d imagine to be a 30 year old Ra’s al Ghul to look like. Young face and bright green eyes, but salt and pepper hair that’s swept back professionally to give him some sort of an aura of power. Tim was dressed in a crisp and clean suit with a silky green and gold tie that he kinda loved. He picked an accent— British, because what posh looking man in a three piece suit with salt and pepper hair doesn’t have a British accent— and approached the scene.</p><p> </p><p>“I did, actually. May I ask why you’re yelling at the workers who are just trying to do their jobs? No offense.” Tim said.</p><p> </p><p>Jason fixed a heavy glare on him and grabbed his shirt by the collar, using his sheer strength to lift Tim off of his heels. “Why the fuck are you tearing this place down?”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t answer my question,” Tim replied, coolly. Jason gripped his shirt tighter.</p><p> </p><p>“I was yelling at them because you weren’t around for me to yell at instead. But you’re here now so I guess my plans have changed. Answer the fucking question.” Jason was growling, low and dangerous. Tim knew better than to cross Jason when he was angry like this, he just couldn’t figure out why he was angry.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m having it be rebuilt into a help center of sorts.” Tim began. “A place where homeless people can stay, we’ll help people find jobs and learn new skills that will help them in the real world. It will also serve as a rehabilitation center for drug addicts and hopefully will also be an alternative to spending time in jail for other criminals.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason’s glare didn’t stop, but he set Tim back down firmly on his feet. That was nice of him at least. “Why the fuck would you do that?” Jason asked, but there was no malice to his voice.</p><p> </p><p>Tim straightened his suit and tie, “Most crime is a result of people not being able to take care of themselves. A person needs money, they turn to crime. This will be a way to help people get out of or avoid that situation.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason huffed, still glaring at Tim. “So you’re tearing down a perfectly good theater? Why couldn’t you build this somewhere else?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim looked at Jason, saw the anger in his eyes. He remembered somethingDick had told him ages ago, “Anger is a secondary emotion, Tim. If someone is angry, that usually means they were hurt or upset first.” But what had hurt Jason this time?</p><p> </p><p>“From what I understand, the theater has been shut down for two decades now.” Tim replied.</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn’t mean other people don’t still use it, dipshit!” Jason screamed at him.</p><p> </p><p>Tim took a half step back, realization dawning on him. Oh. This was about Tim’s old base. The photo. The note. “Sir, I’m sorry if this theater was important to you in some way, I wish I had known before I bought it.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason stepped back and then slammed a heavy fist into the side of one of the machines, denting it. “SHUT UP!”</p><p> </p><p>Tim stepped forward and placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Sir? Is your hand okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Jason slapped him away, “Stop being such a kind and generous motherfucker! I’m trying to be fucking angry at you for destroying my one goddamn connection to Tim!”</p><p> </p><p>Tim moved back. So this was about him. He bowed his head, “I’m sorry. But seeing as the demolition has already begun, we can’t really undo this. Perhaps you could come with me for some lunch and we can talk about this with less physical violence and yelling?”</p><p> </p><p>Jason fixed him with a glare, “I’m not going to fucking lunch with you. I fucking hate you. Do whatever the fuck you want with this place. I don’t fucking give two shits.” And with that, Jason stormed off, stuffing his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his heavy combat boots making thuds against the pavement.</p><p> </p><p>Tim swallowed. He looked around at the workers and small crowd that had gathered there. “Sorry about that guys. Get back to what you were doing.” He said, a false tone of cheeriness in his voice.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tim didn’t know how to handle the Jason situation from there. What could he do? He didn’t want to ignore Jason because he was obviously upset about it all, but Tim couldn’t exactly walk up to him and say that he’d already read the note either. Jason would only feel comforted by that if it were actually Tim who had seen it and that clearly wasn’t an option at the moment. But what else could he do?</p><p> </p><p>He went back to his apartment in the pocket dimension and grabbed the note. He looked at it and read it over. “<em>But I don’t think I’ll ever stop crying over you.”</em> The words were so raw, so un-Jason-like. It was clear Jason had written this in a moment of weakness. Of hurt. Tim wondered if the page was secretly stained with Jason’s tears as well as his own.</p><p> </p><p>Then, an idea. It wasn’t perfect. There was a very high chance of him getting punched in the face. But it was better than any other ideas he’d had.</p><p> </p><p>He ran to the printer and carefully placed the paper over the scanner. Scan. Print.</p><p> </p><p>Soon he had two copies of the same page. He kept the copy for himself, because it looked obviously different from the original, but it still held the same words that he wanted to keep.</p><p> </p><p>The grabbed the original, made sure his image inducer was set to the same man Tim had looked like earlier, and then ran a facial recognition search for Jason Todd on his phone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Speak with the Dead and Hope They Will Listen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason was sitting at a bench outside an old fashioned ice cream shop that Tim had introduced him to. It almost hurt to see the way Jason’s back was hunched over and how he wrung his hands tightly.</p><p> </p><p>Tim carefully approached, unsure exactly of what to say. “So... you’re Jason, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Jason’s eyes snapped up to meet his and fuck, fuck, fUCK, abort mission, <em>abORT MISSION, noPE NO NO NO!</em> The shimmer in Jason’s eyes, the red puffiness around them, Jason had been crying and Tim wanted to turn tail and run right there. Or maybe give his brother a hug. Whichever it was, he didn’t want to stand here, pretending to be some fucking stranger—</p><p> </p><p>“How the <em>fuck</em> did you find me?” Jason snapped, hands clenched tightly into fists.</p><p> </p><p>Tim sighed and sat down next to Jason, the closest he could be to him without wrapping his arms around Jason’s neck and sobbing that it was him, and that he was here, and that he was sorry— “I found your note before we began demolition.” Tim handed the folded note over. “I’m sorry that I read it. I wasn’t exactly sure what it was.” </p><p> </p><p>Jason stared at the note in Tim’s outstretched hand, before tentatively reaching out for it. Tim kept his eyes down, not wanting to look Jason in the eye. “There— um, there was a photo with it.” Jason eventually choked out.</p><p> </p><p>Tim rubbed the back of his neck, “Uh yeah, there was. I ran into a person with coffee not long after I left the theater with the note and picture. She spilled the drink all over the photo, ruined it, luckily the note was okay. I— it was a cute picture, by the way. Friend of yours?”</p><p> </p><p>“Brother,” Jason sighed. “It’s okay. Not like he was ever really going to come back.” </p><p> </p><p>Tim turned towards Jason hesitantly, before laying a shaking hand on his knee. “I’m sorry for your loss.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason was wiping away tears now and it hurt Tim to keep acting like a stranger. “It’s okay. Been three years anyways.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Tim asked, purposefully trying to sound half surprised.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Um.. thanks, for saving the note for me. And trying with the picture. I’m sorry for yelling at you or whatever.” Jason’s voice was getting stronger, and Tim couldn’t tell if it was faked or not.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re welcome. I—“ Shit, why are you still talking? “I kinda have a question about the note though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shoot.” Jason said, sounding tired. He leaned back on the bench and Tim got the message that Jason didn’t actually want to be here anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“Well... you said that you’d come back from the dead already. Is... is that true?”</p><p> </p><p>Jason fixed him with a look, “I did? Fuck, I don’t even remember what I wrote...” Jason started to unfold the note but hesitated. His gaze returned to Tim’s modified face. “Shit, you read the note? I don’t remember what I wrote but I know it was fucking weak ass bullshit—“</p><p> </p><p>Tim gripped Jason’s shoulder, “There’s nothing weak about expressing your emotions. I may not know you, Jason, but I know that you care for your brother, and even if he isn’t going to read the note, you wrote those feelings down on the off chance that he would. Maybe in another universe, he got to read your note, and maybe it helped him.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason seemed frozen at Tim’s words and Tim wasn’t sure what to do from there. “I know... I know that we just met. But, I’d like to help you. Maybe, I don’t know, find some peace, or something.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason asked, but his words had no malice.</p><p> </p><p>Tim sighed, “I... I don’t want to intrude or anything. But, maybe you should visit your brother’s grave or something. Read him your note. Even if he can’t hear it, maybe it’ll still help you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason grunted, “Sounds like a sappy fucking dog movie or some shit.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim chuckled, “Yeah probably. I’m Grant, by the way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Grant, huh? I would say nice to meet you but this has been a shitty day.” Jason replied. “<em>God</em> I need a drink.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim laughed lightly and knew, god he knew, how much it sounded like his normal laugh. It’s difficult to laugh in a British accent, you see. Jason seemed to pick up on it too, his gaze snapping to Tim’s for a second.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, I’m losing it.” Jason eventually said, running a hand through his hair.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll tell you what,” Tim began, not knowing what the fuck he was doing. “You go read your brother that note, or something along those lines, and I’ll buy you the best whiskey we can find.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason paused, “Sounds expensive.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim shrugged, “I bought a building, I think I can afford a whiskey or two.”</p><p> </p><p>“Better make it two, if I’m gonna take you up on that deal I wanna get so shitfaced afterwards that I won’t remember it.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim stood, holding out a hand. “Come on then, Jason. I’m only buying you those drinks if you go visit your brother.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason stood, purposefully not taking Tim’s hand. “What are you going to fucking follow me?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim considered it, “Well, I have to make sure you actually hold up your end of the deal. Don’t worry, I’ll stay far enough away that you can talk to him in peace or whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason huffed, “Fine. I’m only doing this for the alcohol, by the way.”</p><p> </p><p>“I never assumed otherwise,” Tim happily replied.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey, Timmy.” Jason whispered, sitting criss cross in front of the grave marked Timothy Drake Wayne. He smiled sadly, reaching out to trace his fingers over the carved letters. “I, um... know I haven’t really done this before. And that doing it now is kinda stupid, it’s been three years after all... but I just didn’t know how to do this. I still don’t. Our family sucks ass at dealing with emotions, and I’m frankly just as bad as Bruce... I’ve always preferred to shoot my way out of a problem. To get revenge. But, I can’t avenge you. There’s no one for me to shoot to make myself feel better in this situation. At first I was angry, you know? It’s easier to be angry than to admit that this is my... this is my fault. I wrote you a note and put it in your old base just in case you ever came back... we have a tendency of doing that in this family, but you haven’t. You’re still dead and I still don’t know how to handle it. I think... I’ve been denying it. Fuck, I know I’ve been denying it. Because everyone comes back to life in this world, so why can’t you?”</p><p>Jason sighed, wiping away the tear on his cheek. “After I wrote that note, I kinda shut myself off from the rest of the family. You were always my favorite brother, the one I related to the most, well, once we got past all of our issues. I told myself to stop fucking crying over a guy that’ll just be back in a few months or so, I told myself to focus on the criminals in this world, and to try my best not to dig your corpse up and bring you to Ra’s and make him bring you back. God I wanted to. We all did. We wanted you back so fucking badly. Bruce was worse than I think he was when I died, Dick stopped being Nightwing for a few months, Steph dropped the vigilante life entirely and she says it was so she could focus on college but we all know that was a lie. Duke was... lost. Like he didn’t understand how you could’ve died other than on the battlefield. But I guess you were in your own battlefield... and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to provide some support. Cass didn’t understand it at all, Alfred had to explain it all to her, why you would do that... why you would kill yourself. After that she cried and it was horrible.</p><p>“But it’s Damian that got hurt the most I think. Dick said that Damian blamed himself. That Damian has nightmares about it being his fault most nights, that Damian even tried to dig you up and bring you to Ra’s himself, even if he had to face his past to do it. He named a cat after you I think, which I know seems like a total turn around, but that cat is his favorite pet, even beyond Titus or Batcow. From what I’ve heard from Dick, Alfred made him get therapy... same with most of the rest of the family. Even himself. I obviously didn’t, cause I’m a fucking coward.</p><p>“After all that therapy, most everyone got a bit better. They were forced to talk about their feelings and shit. Damian had his suit redesigned to look more like yours, I think we all agreed not to talk about it though. I um... don’t really know how to describe it to you. There’s more red and black and he changed his utility belt to be a harness like yours.”</p><p>Jason rubbed a hand over his face, sitting back. “I guess you don’t want to know about how depressed everyone is though. Um... I went through my sad and angry phases quicker than expected, went into the denial part that I’ve been in until today apparently. What happened? Well some asshole bought Monarch Theater and then had it torn down. He’s a real prick, British, salt and pepper hair, you know the type. He’s having it rebuilt into a help center for people though so I guess I can’t be mad about that. He also found the note before he had the place torn down. Gave it to me. Told me to come here and talk to you. He’s one of those real annoying types that you want to hate but fucking can’t because they’re so goddamn nice. Heh, reminds me a little bit of you actually. Name’s Grant, I think. He’s gonna buy me some real expensive whiskey after this.”</p><p> </p><p>Silence stretched through the graveyard. Jason could see Grant sitting at a bench on the other side of the place, earbuds in, heading nodding along to whatever he was listening to.</p><p> </p><p>“This is nicer than I thought it would be.” Jason commented, looking back at the headstone. “I’ve missed you. Oh—“ He reached into his jacket pocket, taking out the note. “Here’s the note thing that I wrote you.” He read it over quickly, grimacing about how sappy he was. “Fuck, okay ignore most of that. Except the fact that I miss you and if I do get to see you again, I want to give you a big hug. Those are the only things in the note worth repeating.” He chuckled. “I think I might come back more often, talk to you. It feels kinda weird talking to a stone while I’m technically sitting on top of your body, but I haven’t really let myself... feel emotions in a couple of years. I haven’t talked about what your death did to our family. I certainly haven’t talked about what it did to me...”</p><p>He ran a hand through his hair, before pulling himself to his feet. “I’ll be back sometime, Timmy. It might take me a bit, there’s a new guy in town that we gotta deal with— oh I forgot to mention that. Yeah he’s good. Covers his tracks, has a bird theme, scary good at hacking. We all kinda thought he could be you at first, but then Bruce had your grave scanned and you were still here so that was a bust I guess. He killed the Joker. And there’s a high chance he’s killed a lot of other criminals. I respect him for that... but I kinda hate him too. It’s complicated. I don’t know how I feel about him.” Jason commented, before pausing to lean down and run his fingers back along the letters. “Anyways... uh... bye, I guess.” He finished awkwardly, walking towards where Grant was still lounging on the bench.</p><p> </p><p>“Ready to go?” He asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, uh yeah.” Grant stumbled, pausing his music. “You were there for longer than I thought you’d be.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason stilled, “Well I...”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Grant interrupted, putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “That’s a good thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck off,” Jason grumbled, shrugging the hand off his shoulder. Will that asshole stop touching him— Grant chuckled again and it made Jason’s heart skip a beat because it sounded so much like Tim.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on mate, let’s find somewhere to get you that drink.”</p><p> </p><p>“First off, I am not your mate.” Jason clarified. “Second off, at this point I think you owe me a whole bottle.”</p><p> </p><p>Grant raised an eyebrow, “Do I?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I actually talked to Tim instead of just sitting there angrily, which means more emotions than I was expecting. Come on, I know a real expensive liquor store that’ll make sure your wallet is way lighter by the end of the night.” Jason walked away, not checking to see if Grant was following because he knew the annoying asshole would be.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Of Vices and Virtues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Name: Unknown</p><p>Age: Unknown</p><p>       Note: Seems to be in his early twenties</p><p>Height: Unknown</p><p>       Note: Never seen in person for size comparison</p><p>Gender: Male</p><p>Weight: Unknown</p><p>Eye Color: Unknown</p><p>Hair Color: Black</p><p>       Note: Red feathers are tied into his hair</p><p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p><p>Alias: The Cardinal</p><p>Kill Count: 4 Confirmed Kills</p><p>       Note: It is unclear how many people he has killed before entering Gotham or if there are more cases that have yet to be discovered.</p><p>       Note: He kills swiftly and with little fanfare. Decapitation of the victim has been the main identifying factor.</p><p>       Note: The blade used cuts the head clean off with no sign of resistance.</p><p>Status: Alive</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tim leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling with a cold, calculating gaze. The ceiling had done nothing wrong, of course, but currently he couldn’t stare anyone down, so here he was.</p><p>He picked up his list off the desk, holding above his head. The light above made the paper slightly see through, but he could easily read the dark and heavy handwriting on it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike>Joker</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>Carmine Falcone</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>Harvey Dent</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>Kathryn Monroe</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>The Riddler</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>Cluemaster</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>Count Vertigo</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>Maxie Zeus</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>Una Nemo</strike>
</p><p>
  <strike>Orifice</strike>
</p><p>Hugo Strange</p><p> </p><p>Tim growled at the paper and put it back down. Strange was proving to be more difficult to kill than he was expecting.</p><p> </p><p>Okay, killing the man wouldn’t actually be that difficult, it was finding him that was difficult. Tim had expected the man to be in Arkham Asylum, like the databases say, but when he’d reached the Asylum, the man he’d found most certainly was not Professor Hugo Strange. Sure, it looked like him, but Tim had had enough experience with both the man himself and with doppelgängers to know that the person inside the cell was the latter.</p><p>Which was why Tim was currently in his safe house, glaring at the ceiling, the gears in his mind spinning as he tried to figure out where Strange could be hiding. Medical records say Strange was admitted to the Asylum three and a half years ago, and Tim would know that as fact, because he’d been the one to put the man away. Professor Strange had been himself at the time, so when the hell had he gotten a doppelgänger of himself (or made one?) and escaped unnoticed?</p><p>(Sometime in the last three years, probably. You know, you’ve been gone. A lot of things have changed. Like you, for instance.)</p><p> </p><p>Yeah, shut up common sense.</p><p> </p><p>Tim huffed and went back to typing. He’d been doing research all night, ever since he’d found Strange’s replacement instead of the real Strange. He could feel himself falling back into his old habits of getting barely any sleep and relying on caffeine to function, which he would NOT do by the way. Nuh uh. Ra’s had broken that part of him for a reason. It was bad for his health and hindering his growth, both mentally and physically.</p><p>But right now, he needed to find Strange. Why? Because Tim had a time table. Everything was laid out, each kill designed well beforehand to make sure that there would be no mistakes, no mishaps, no running into Batman or anyone else for that matter.</p><p>Last night’s kill was supposed to be Hugo Strange. And today’s kill was meant to be William Cobb. William Cobb, who would only be surfacing today as a result of the murder of Kathryn Monroe five days ago. But Hugo Strange just had to ruin his plan, didn’t he?</p><p>Tim’s list existed for a reason. He had every kill laid out to seem random, because they were. Tim had written down each name on his list and drawn them from a hat to randomize the list, making sure there was no pattern. Nothing for Batman to follow. But some of the names had been purposely rearranged, William Cobb, for example.</p><p> </p><p>Today was his only chance to kill William Cobb, but Tim was still caught up on Hugo Strange.</p><p> </p><p>He tilted his head to the side, looking at the video footage he’d just hacked his way into getting. A smile crossed his face. Found him.</p><p> </p><p>Tim looked to his suit. What exactly was stopping him from killing in broad daylight again? Oh that’s right. Nothing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Professor Strange</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Name: Hugo Strange</p><p>Age: 62</p><p>Height: 5 feet 10 inches</p><p>Gender: Male</p><p>Weight: 170 pounds (77 kilograms)</p><p>Eye Color: Grey</p><p>       Note: Wears round, reflective glasses</p><p>Hair Color: Grey</p><p>        Note: Mostly bald, has a beard</p><p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p><p>Alias: Professor Strange</p><p>        Note: Also goes by Batman</p><p>        Note: Don’t question it.</p><p>Kill Count: 237 Confirmed Kills</p><p>Status: Alive</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Easy.</p><p> </p><p>This was supposed to be easy.</p><p> </p><p>But noooooo, Red Hood just <em>had</em> to be there, didn’t he? The one vigilante in Gotham who doesn’t care what time of day he operates at. Just Tim’s luck, huh?</p><p> </p><p>So here Tim was, a clear line of sight to Strange, but an equally clear line of sight to Red Hood, who apparently had also found Strange too (probably Oracle’s doing) and had decided, just like Tim, let’s go beat the guy up. Except, Tim had fully intended to just walk in and relieve the man of ten pounds. Hood, on the other hand, was taking his sweet time.</p><p> </p><p>Now, the question was, was Hood going to take care of Strange for him or would Tim have to put in the extra effort? Hood’s morality said that Strange could be dead within the hour. But Batman’s teachings were undoubtedly counteracting that, telling Red Hood to bring Strange to jail.</p><p> </p><p>“You see, Professor, Oracle let me have you first. Last time you were out and about, you took your attacks to a level that just wasn’t okay. Experimenting on kids? That—“ Red Hood leveled his gun at Strange’s head. “—is not okay. On any level. But the thing is, there’s a new guy in Gotham with a penchant for killing Gotham villains, I’d like to see what he does with you.” Hood lowered the gun and stepped back. “So I’m gonna leave you here and see how long it takes for the birdie to find you.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim smirked, and reached into one of the many pockets on the inside of his coat. Well, Hood was inviting him to play, wasn’t he?</p><p> </p><p>“Wh..who—“ Strange managed out. Tim wanted to feel bad, Hood hadn’t been kind with his beating. Tim had seen Batman act kinder to Joker.</p><p> </p><p>Hood was leaning against a column now, “Calls himself Cardinal. I personally don’t think he’ll be around for long, but he’s been pretty good at covering his tracks so far, so who knows. Dude sure has Batsy on edge.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim readied the dart. Sure, he preferred to kill with his blade, but a quick poison dart wouldn’t be so bad. Still very dramatic, and Tim knew that Hood wouldn’t be taking the time to save Strange. Besides, he’d killed plenty of people without using his blade, what’s one more?</p><p> </p><p>He blew the dart and watched it connect with Strange’s neck. He smirked. He already knew his escape plan, and he also knew how fast Red Hood could be to react, so Tim didn’t waste any time.</p><p> </p><p>Tim figured he had three seconds... two... one.</p><p> </p><p>“Strange?”</p><p> </p><p>At that moment, Cardinal disappeared. The pocket dimension was such a handy thing, wasn’t it?</p><p> </p><p>Red Hood was on edge in an instant, looking around wildly. “Where are you, you fucking coward? I thought you liked to decapitate people. Since when is poison darts your style?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim chuckled, well aware that Hood wouldn’t be able to hear him since he was currently relaxing in another dimension. He leaped down from the rafters and leaned against the wall comfortably to watch.</p><p> </p><p>Hood was checking the entire warehouse with scrutiny that only a Bat could have. Tim would know, he was once the detective robin.</p><p> </p><p>Hood huffed, standing a few feet away from Tim, reaching up to his comms. “O? I got a problem here.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim tapped a few things on his wrist computer, wanting to listen in to both sides of the conversation. It took a minute, and by then he’d already missed Oracle’s response, but then—</p><p> </p><p>“Batman?” Hood asked.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it, Jason?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim saw Jason turn towards Strange’s body. “Hugo Strange. Oracle sent me to bring him in once she caught wind of his whereabouts. I hadn’t even realized he’d escaped Arkham, but—“ Jason was gesturing to the body.</p><p> </p><p>“So what’s the problem?” Oracle asked. Batman grunted, wanting to know the same.</p><p> </p><p>“The problem is that I was halfway through talking to him when a dart hit his neck. I’d say it took about three seconds to kill him. The problem is... Cardinal is nowhere in sight. I found evidence that he came in, barely any though, but no evidence that he left. He’s a fucking ghost.”</p><p> </p><p>There was silence, “Are you sure it was Cardinal?”</p><p> </p><p>Hood sighed, “Who else would it be? Sure, darts don’t exactly fit his M.O., but killing a known supervillain? In Gotham? There’s not a lot of people around who would do that. Not to mention that Oracle was the one who found him, and if Cardinal’s skills are anywhere near as good as we think they are...”</p><p> </p><p>“Then it would make sense that he would find Strange at the same time we did.” Batman said.</p><p> </p><p>Hood nodded, “That’s not all. Right before Strange was killed, I... I told him about Cardinal. I specifically said that I wanted to see how long it would take Cardinal to find him. You don’t need to tell me how bad that sounds, but... I think he took it as a challenge. He was probably listening.”</p><p> </p><p>There was more silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Red Hood,” Damian’s voice this time. “How long do you think it took between you saying that and the dart to kill Strange?”</p><p> </p><p>Red Hood paused, thinking. “Fifteen seconds, max. There was some more conversation between the time I challenged him and when Strange was killed.“</p><p> </p><p>“Still, fifteen seconds... he was certainly already there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah...” Hood kept looking around. “The part that gets me is I can’t find any evidence of him leaving. Absolutely nothing. And usually that would mean that he’s still here, but... he’s not.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim grinned, and relaxed further against the wall. The pocket dimension sure was a fun place to exist. Ever present yet undetected.</p><p> </p><p>“He didn’t target you though,” Oracle added. Tim could tell by her voice that she was looking for any evidence of Cardinal having entered or exited the building.</p><p> </p><p>“No, but we knew that. He said he didn’t want to kill us unless we got in his way.” Batman added, gruffly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m starting to think that maybe we shouldn’t get in his way...” Jason mumbled, looking around. Then, clearing his throat, he spoke louder, “There’s nothing here. Just a dead body. You might want to canvas the place, B, but I’m outta here. Got shit to do.”</p><p> </p><p>Hood turned and left the building. Tim waited patiently, before phasing back out of the pocket dimension. He walked forward towards Strange’s body and extended his bō, blades snapping to life. Sure, it was a little redundant to take this guy’s head off after Tim had already poisoned him, but doing so after Hood had left the scene? Further proving that Cardinal was there the entire time and also confirming that the kill was Cardinal’s? Now that was the violent equivalent of a cherry on top.</p><p> </p><p>Slice. Wipe the blade clean. Cover up his tracks. Hack the systems to make sure Oracle won’t see him. Skedaddle.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strike>Hugo Strange</strike>
</p><p> </p><p>Next up: William Cobb.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Poison in Our Hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a reason William Cobb had to happen today and no other day. And that was because Cobb was a Talon. And Cobb was undoubtedly the Talon being sent out to kill Cardinal in revenge for Kathryn Monroe. And Cardinal had to be ready.</p><p>Talons were hard to kill. He knew that. Decapitation, as effective as it is on most beings, will not kill a talon. They’ll just be brought back by the Court and then Tim will have to deal with them all over again.</p><p>But luckily, the Court of Owls has already done the preparation work for him, creating a very special poison that could kill a talon permanently. From what he understood, they didn’t use it much, nor keep much of it. Which was why the one sample he had was so important.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Gotham</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>9 months ago</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Detective,” Ra’s spoke. Tim looked up.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Ra’s?”</p><p> </p><p>“You clearly wish to ask a question. Ask it already and quit mumbling.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim blushed, “Apologies. I... don’t understand what we’re doing here. I thought you were trying to keep me off Bruce’s radar.”</p><p> </p><p>“That is true, however the Detective has run into a bit of a problem with the Court of Owls and I don’t see why we can’t make this into a lesson. Shall we?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. “What kind of a lesson?”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s grinned. Not a smile. A grin. There was a difference. “I’m sure you know by now that the talons are rather... difficult to kill.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean impossible. Once they get revived once they become unkillable.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tt. Seems that way. Especially from the perspective of someone who learned non lethal ways to fight. But now I tell you this ابني, the talons can be killed. And I’m here to show you how.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim straightened. This was a test, surely. Everything was a test with Ra’s, even if Ra’s himself didn’t really know it. Ra’s wanted confirmation with each and every single one of Tim’s decisions that he’d made the right choice in naming Tim as his heir. This was no different. “I’m listening.” He replied coolly.</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s nodded. “In that case, I will tell you how. And then you will complete the kill. The Court of Owls keeps small amounts of a very specific poison designed to kill their Talons if need be.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim frowned, “How do you know this?”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s looked him dead in the eye, “I have connections, ابني. The Court of Owls may be separate from the League of Shadows, but they still have connections to me. The Lazarus Pit is of particular interest to them.”</p><p> </p><p>That was not helping Tim’s confusion. “If the Court and the League work together, then why do you want me to kill a Talon?”</p><p> </p><p>“You ask many questions,” Ra’s pointed out. He didn’t seem exasperated or annoyed, he said it simply as fact. “The Court of Owls has recently been acting out of line. Attacking Batman as well as targeting members of my League. They need to be put in line, and killing one of their own Talons is exactly the way to do it. I want you to make it clear that the kill is a Shadow kill.” Ra’s handed over a piece of metal. “Brand the body.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim wanted to protest. Killing was one thing, but claiming a kill? Branding the body? That was taking it a step too far. But he didn't. He couldn’t go against Ra’s’ wishes, not now. He simply took the brand and pocketed it in the black and green outfit he currently wore. “Understood.” He replied. This was still a test, and just like when he was in school, Tim intended to pass. “Who am I killing?”</p><p> </p><p>“Their oldest Talon: Uriah Boone.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The poison was not easy to get to. It was held in their Inner Sanctum along with the hundreds of Talons that were kept frozen in stasis.</p><p> </p><p>Luckily, Tim had spent the last couple of years being trained in stealth as well as combat. Add that to his training as Robin and you get an assassin who can go just about anywhere undetected.</p><p> </p><p>...oh.</p><p> </p><p>...he was an assassin now.</p><p> </p><p>That hadn’t occurred to him yet.</p><p> </p><p>Well... shit.</p><p> </p><p>Inside him, the hero part was fighting back. His years of training under the Bat, of working alongside his family, of adhering to the no-kill rule was fighting against this realization. It was asking him what the hell he was doing. What little light was left inside him wanted him to go back home.</p><p>But Tim had set his mind to this. He was going to get rid of the villains in Gotham. He was going to make Gotham safer, better, even if it meant becoming someone dangerous. Someone that kills.</p><p>When Tim sets his mind to something, nothing can stop him. Not the Bat. Not his past. Not Jason, or Dick, or Damian, or Kon, or Steph, or Bart, or Cass. No one. He would see this through.</p><p>And right now, he had a poison to grab, a Talon to fight, to kill, and then a brand to use. And then he would return to Ra’s and train more. Always more training.</p><p>Training was good. Training made him better than he was before.</p><p> </p><p>He let a smile cross his face. Killing a Talon? Easy.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tim had run scans on the poison— after all he only had managed to grab three samples of it before he’d left the Sanctum, two had been used already, one was about to be used— and he’d found that it was weird.</p><p> </p><p>Well, everything in his life was weird.</p><p> </p><p>But this poison had substances that Tim didn’t recognize or understand. They weren’t in Ra’s’ records, and Ra’s had the most comprehensive list of poisons that Tim had ever seen.</p><p> </p><p>In other words, it would be very, very hard to replicate. One of the substances in it was silvery gold, undoubtedly the material used to turn Talons into Talons, but the problem was he had no fucking clue where to find that. Electrum, it was called. He knew that at least. Didn’t mean he knew how to get it.</p><p>Replicating it wouldn’t be easy, but he had all of his scans and tests on file, so as long as none of his files got deleted, he would be able to make the poison again when he had the ingredients. </p><p>But the science behind the poison wasn’t the point here. The point was William Cobb was going to be sent out to kill Cardinal today. And Tim definitely didn’t want Cobb coming anywhere near his base— much less finding it— so he was going to... make a public announcement.</p><p> </p><p>But that was to happen at sunset. For now, Tim was going to take a nap. And get ready to kill a Talon. But nap first. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Talon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m not dead I promise<br/>Lol here’s the chapter :)</p>
<p>Also! Here’s the ages for this fic: <br/>Bruce: 41 (maybe older idk his age in canon makes no sense to me)<br/>Dick: 26<br/>Jason: 22<br/>Tim: 20, going on 21<br/>Dami: 14, going on 15<br/>Duke: 19<br/>Steph: 20<br/>Cass: 20, going on 21</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Easiest way to make sure a fight happens where you want it to? Invite the person over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In this case, Cardinal stood in the wreckage of a building that got destroyed last year in a Joker bombing. (Good news: Joker wouldn’t be doing that anymore.) The building also happened to be situated in the old sector of Gotham— across the city from the Manor but right next to the Court of Owls’ front door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d thought this through, every word he was about to say, each movement he was about to make. Each one was planned out to play to his strengths and ensure the exact outcome he wanted.</p>
<p>The best part? Tim was playing a role. Making Cardinal seem cocky, like he likes dramatic statements. It fit right in with Tim’s conversation with the Bats over the computer. It would (hopefully) downplay the notion that Tim had planned each step out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hit a button on the hidden computer in his sleeve, opening the transmission.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello, Gotham.” He began. The message was playing on every piece of active technology in the city. Electronic billboards, phones, tablets, computers, but excluding the phones of the Bats along with the Batcomputer. Sure, they’d see his message, but it would take a little longer. </p>
<p>“Cardinal here, with a quick message to send out.” He grinned.</p>
<p>“<em>Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send the Talon for your head</em>.” He spoke the nursery rhyme with practiced ease, he was a native Gothamite after all.</p>
<p>“I’m sure you know what that means, William Cobb. I’m waiting.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He clicked the same button he’d used to begin the transmission to end it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And now he waited.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The poison was ready, hidden in one of the inner pockets of his trenchcoat. He’d learned his lesson the first time around with Uriah Boone that the poison had to be injected directly into the bloodstream for it to work. Ra’s didn’t need to know that Tim had fucked it up the first time though.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But that meant Tim either had to get a really lucky shot in, or he had to subdue Cobb long enough to administer the poison properly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both would be difficult.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim walked a slow circle, looking around. Not that he needed to, he’d already checked every nook and cranny of this place long before choosing it.</p>
<p>He’d also timed how long it would take for Cobb to reach him, assuming he was in the main Sanctum at the time the massage had been sent out. Answer was three minutes and 14 seconds.</p>
<p>He also knew that by Batmobile it would take Batman 42 minutes to get to Tim’s location (mostly due to rush hour traffic), Red Hood 14 minutes by motorcycle (also mostly due to traffic, but he also lived a lot closer), and 8 minutes and 39 seconds by Batplane.</p>
<p>So, in other words, this fight needed to take a maximum of 5 minutes and 25 seconds if he wanted to completely avoid any possible interactions with the Bats.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>14... 13... 12... 11...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim flipped on the scanner in his mask. There.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>5... 4... 3...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cobb was crouching, wary, on the other side of the wall in front of Tim. But he was here, just in the time frame Tim had predicted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>2... 1...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Talon rounded the corner, knife flashing through the air, straight towards Tim.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim could’ve dodged, he could’ve deflected the attack too. But he’d seen Cobb prepare the weapon, he’d noticed each movement of the man’s muscles as he’d thrown the weapon, and Tim knew that the knife’s trajectory was about to change, going from his heart to his eye.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a gloved hand, Tim snatched the knife clean out of the air and threw it directly back at Talon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Talon dodged the attack, but the knife still sliced across his arm, blood automatically spilling from the wound. Cobb didn’t flinch. Obviously. Talons don’t feel pain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The poison in Tim’s pocket stood in wait. All Tim had to do was get close enough.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Talon rushed forward, knives ready. Tim turned off the scanner— it was starting to hurt his eyes— and readied his bō.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Four minutes and 45 seconds left.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They traded blows faster than the eye could see, metal connecting with metal, the sounds of the fight filling the air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Four minutes...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Talon flipped, Cardinal stuck his bō out, having countered attacks like this all the time during his training with Nightwing. The metal cut through Talon’s flesh again, but once again did not bother the Talon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Talon landed several quick attacks, and Tim responded with his own. He sliced his bō through the air quickly, relieving Talon of his left arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Talon didn’t flinch, but Tim knew he wouldn’t.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Several knives cut through the air. Tim raised his coat, and deflected two. The other one hit the plated armor on his thigh and clattered to the ground. Ha, suck it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One minute and thirty seconds.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Talon was off balance now, leaning heavily to his right. It was clear the blood loss was slowing him down too. It wouldn’t kill him, but it did make him run a bit slower.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now... time for the kryptonite. Tim pulled a small canister from his coat as he dodged yet another attack. He threw it at Cobb, knowing it would explode before Talon would be able to dodge, and also knowing that he needed to back the fuck up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What was the container full of you ask? Liquid nitrogen. Existing at a temperature of -320 degrees Fahrenheit, it was more than cold enough to freeze Talon into his hibernation state.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim hadn’t wanted to use this because a) liquid nitrogen of this caliber wasn’t easy to get, much less store in a canister such as the one he was using and b) the extreme cold would slow down Talon’s blood flow which meant the poison wouldn’t work as good.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Tim was running out of time. Good news: Talon was completely subdued. Bad news: he was also frozen in liquid nitrogen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Forty seconds.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim stepped forward, wary of the liquid nitrogen that was currently covering the ground in ice. Flash freezing the Talon had worked a million times better than Tim had expected— Talon was lying on the ground, unable to move, frozen— Tim was starting to think that freezing more people would be fun. He pulled the poison out from his pocket.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He injected half into Talon’s neck, a quarter into Talon’s remaining arm, and the rest into Talon’s thigh. Spreading the poison out would make sure that it worked despite the slowed blood flow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ten seconds. He could hear the batplane above the building he currently stood in. Time to get lost.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Batman, Robin, and Nightwing were all there.</p>
<p>Batman dropped into the room first, automatically beginning to inspect the crime scene. “Nightwing. Robin. I found Talon. Or... what’s left of him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We missed him?” Nightwing asked over the comms, referring to Cardinal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, just barely. He used liquid nitrogen to freeze Talon. Also cut off an arm.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nightwing and Robin entered the room. “Jesus...” Dick whispered, getting close. “To flash freeze someone like this...” He leaned down, poking at the frost.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Batman was frowning as he looked around further. Robin prodded the discarded arm, taking samples.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The freeze pattern of the LN2, it’s fresh. This fight ended only a few minutes ago, maybe even less than that.” Batman spoke up, leave it to the World’s Greatest Detective to figure that out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then how did he get away?” Robin protested, leaving the arm alone to confirm Batman’s conclusion about the liquid nitrogen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s just like Hood said earlier, he’s a ghost.” Nightwing commented. He walked towards the doorway Talon had originally entered through, finding the knife. “Look. This is Talon’s knife. Covered in blood too. Maybe Cardinal finally got sloppy, forgot to clear the evidence before leaving.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Batman looked around, taking in the scene. “I doubt that. From what I cantell, this is the room Cardinal broadcasted from in order to get Cobb’s attention. Which means he was waiting. The partial footprint by that door way suggests that Talon entered through there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are you suggesting, Batman?” Robin asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m suggesting that Cardinal is quick enough to catch a Talon’s knife and throw it back at him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nightwing shined a small flashlight on the knife, and the blade showed the near black blood that was signature to Talons. “Dammit. Did this guy seriously hit Talon with his own weapon?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Seems so.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damian grunted and looked around, “Aren’t Talons supposed to be unkillable? Who does this guy think he is?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nightwing paused, “They are unkillable. Even decapitation can’t stop them. He obviously knows that, since he froze him instead. But the cold just puts talons in a coma-like state.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Batman looked increasingly troubled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Batman? What are you thinking?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m thinking that Cardinal wouldn’t target something that’s unkillable if he didn’t know how to kill it. He’s too good for that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What if he wasn’t targeting Talon, but instead was the target?” Nightwing asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They paused.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why would the Court of Owls target him? He’s barely been in Gotham for two weeks.” Robin pointed out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know.” Nightwing replied, stepping over a section of liquid nitrogen to get closer to the body.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s a lot we don’t know. I don’t like that.” Batman said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Woah, Batman, look at this.” Nightwing said, reaching with a gloved hand towards the injection sight on Cobb’s neck. Batman leaned over, noticing the tiny pin prick on the skin that could have easily been mistaken as a blood splatter if it weren’t for Nightwing having wiped away some of the blood hiding it. “It looks like Cardinal injected him with something.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Batman grunted. “Get a sample.“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Already on it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Robin kicked the detached arm with his foot, half angry, half defeated. “This guy thinks he’s <em>so</em> great, doesn’t he? He even publicly announced that he was going to kill a Talon.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Batman frowned. “I doubt it’s arrogance. This seems like strategy. Like Gotham is a massive game of chess for him. And we’re losing.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Case File: Red Hood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>When did... when did October happen? Last I checked it it was still September,,, maybe August....</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason had distanced himself from the family ever since Tim’s death. Sure, he’d always been distant, but at some point, Tim had dragged him back into the family. Without Tim there, there was no reason for Jason to stick around.</p>
<p>Well, that and he blamed them for Tim’s death. Jason blamed himself too, but he couldn’t distance himself from himself, so he did the next best thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But now Cardinal was forcing the Bats into an all hands on deck situation, and after he killed Strange and Talon in one day... Jason understood why.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two days ago, he thought Cardinal was too cocky. Too sure of himself. He’d mess up and get caught. And then he'd be just another face in Blackgate and Jason wouldn’t have to worry about him.</p>
<p>But then Cardinal turned the tables. He upped the stakes. Joker, Riddler, Professor Strange, Carmine Falcone, Two Face, and a Talon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> (Yes, a Talon. You know, those things that are supposed to be unkillable.)</span></p>
<p>He was slowly becoming more dangerous than Red Hood at the height of his murder sprees. Sure, Cardinal wasn’t killing entire gangs all at once, but he’d taken out enough big names to prove his worth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Part of Jason had to respect it. Cardinal had a mission, and he was unwavering. The other part had to hate him because of how the man acted— like he was better than everyone else and knew it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Basically every vigilante in Gotham was working day in and day out to find Cardinal. Jason... eh, not so much. After Cardinal had killed Strange while Jason was right next to him, Jason had effectively decided two things:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>1.) He did not want to fuck with Cardinal and get on the man’s hit list.</p>
<p>2.) Cardinal had guts. If Jason ever saw him in person, he might shoot him.Key word being might.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the meantime, Jason was working on a new case regarding Black Mask and a human trafficking ring. And he was 90% sure that the two were connected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal probably has Black Mask on his list of people to kill, but Jason had every intention of taking Mask out first.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The Monarch Theater was completely demolished by the end of the week. And then Tim— Grant— had started work with a construction company and the next two months would be spent building the Compass Point Center. Tim particularly liked the name because a compass has four <em>cardinal</em> points and... yeah, you get the pun.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Compass Point would be one hell of a building once it’s done. Thirty four floors, it will have apartments, a clinic, a small rehabilitation center, shops, a central atrium on the thirty fourth and thirty third floors, and several other features. It was like a small city. Which was kinda the point.</p>
<p>It would offer jobs and cheap places of living to those who need it while also giving criminals and drug addicts a second chance. Tim was mostly paying for it with League money right now, but that was going to change once he got the backing and fundraising needed.</p>
<p>Funny thing was, this was exactly the sort of project Wayne Enterprises would support. Tim wondered if Bruce would be to caught up looking for Cardinal to bother even sparing a second glance to the massive rehabilitation center that was being built in place of one the last places Bruce’s parents had been alive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hopefully Bruce wouldn’t care about it... hopefully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Good news, he’d set up a proper ID for Grant that would fool Batman unless he started looking <em>real</em> close. Which Tim doubted would happen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>More good news: Tim was going to be relaxing his schedule now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Part of his plan was to kill someone everyday for the first three weeks, and then slow down drastically to one or two kills per week. This was a necessary change of pace so that he could finish all of his projects (like Compass Point) and also plan far enough ahead to make sure that nothing goes wrong. He also needed time to monitor the changes in crime levels as a result of his arrival.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The only bad thing about that plan is that it gives Batman more time to find him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But... Tim already knew that Bruce would figure it out eventually. Someone would. Until then, he’d just keep working.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Name: Jason Todd-Wayne</p>
<p>Note: Adopted by Bruce Wayne (Batman) at age 12</p>
<p>Age: Chronologically 23, biologically 20</p>
<p>      Note: This is due to the effects of the Lazarus Pit, which slows his aging drastically</p>
<p>Height: 6 feet 0 inches</p>
<p>Gender: Male</p>
<p>Weight: 225 pounds (102.058 kilograms)</p>
<p>Eye Color: Blue-Green</p>
<p>      Note: The green tint is due to the Lazarus Pit</p>
<p>Hair Color: Black with a white streak</p>
<p>      Note: White streak is also due to the Lazarus Pit</p>
<p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p>
<p>Alias: Red Hood</p>
<p>Kill Count: 183 Confirmed Kills</p>
<p>      Note: All of these kills were not against innocents. Red Hood kills gang leaders, drug dealers, and other villains.</p>
<p>Status: Alive</p>
<p>      Note: Previously deceased, killed by the Joker, revived by Ra’s al Ghul in the Lazarus Pit</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Manchester Massacre</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>32 men and women mingled about in a large, lavish room; each surface of the room was adorned in something expensive, everything from the gold trim to the velvet couches to the expensive plates of food.</p><p>They talked and laughed inside the room, waiting for the man who had called them there to give his speech.</p><p>A clearing of a throat, a clink of a spoon on glass. Everyone turned to find the source, only to find a man in a grey and green bodysuit with a black hooded cape on top of it at the podium near the back of the room. He wore a gas mask, which should’ve alerted them to the problem much, much sooner.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so glad you all agreed to come here tonight,” the man announced, his voice smooth despite the mask. He set down his champagne glass and spoon, instead pulling out a small device from one of the pockets on his belt. “Allow me to skip right to the chase here. Enjoy the next 90 seconds, for they’re your last.” He pressed the button and then took a seat in one of the many velvet chairs in the room.</p><p> </p><p>Immediately, the room filled with gas, seeping in from all angles of the room.</p><p> </p><p>Each one of the people inside clutched at their throats, held their breath, tried to run for the doors. Well, all except one.</p><p>A large man rushed towards the assassin in the gas mask, his full intentions unclear, but it was obvious that he wanted the man’s mask.</p><p>The man didn’t even manage to take three heavy steps towards the assassin before the assassin pulled out a gun and shot the other clean in the forehead.</p><p> </p><p>“Anyone else?” He quipped to the rest of the room. “No? Shame. In that case, please go back to suffocating.”</p><p> </p><p>Once two minutes had passed since the initial release of the poison gas, 30 seconds after the last person had fallen to the ground, the gas stopped and retreated.</p><p> </p><p>The assassin stood from the velvet chair he had been lounging in, looked over each of his victims, checked for a pulse in each with a gloved hand, seemed satisfied, and walked out the door with a casual gait.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“They called it the Manchester Massacre. 32 prominent business men and women all killed in less than 5 minutes. This was seven months ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“And why are you showing us this?” Nightwing asked.</p><p> </p><p>“The assassin got nicknamed the Nightshade, due to a main component in the gas he used being from the deadly nightshade plant— belladonna. However, beyond that, he was never identified. He left no clues behind other than the security tapes, which he didn’t bother deleting, and the gas residue of course. Despite the fact that it was a mass murder of over 30 people, due to a lack of evidence to support who the assassin is, the case never got closed.”</p><p> </p><p>Robin grunted, “This is starting to sound familiar.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s because I think it is. The gas mask makes it impossible to see the assassin’s face, however we can see his hair and guess his general height by comparing it to the room around him. Black hair, near shoulder length. Height, roughly 5’ 9” or 5’ 10”.”</p><p> </p><p>“My height.” Nightwing added.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Batman nodded. “Additionally he is young, for an assassin of this caliber at least. In this clip, though the audio is heavily distorted due to the gas, he makes several remarks. I cross examined this with what footage we have of Cardinal and—“</p><p> </p><p>Batman played another clip of Cardinal talking, his voice smooth and almost exactly like the one in the previous tape.</p><p> </p><p>“...They’re the same person.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I believe so.”</p><p> </p><p>Robin lifted his chin, looking at Nightshade/Cardinal. “His belt.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I was just about to get to that.” Batman said, then typed quickly, zooming in on the belt Nightshade wore around his hips. Green, with gold detailing.</p><p> </p><p>“That is Grandfather’s symbol.” Robin stated. “The mark of Ra’s al Ghul. A demon’s head.”</p><p> </p><p>Indeed, it was. On the center pocket of the belt, a gold circle with ornate detailing of a demon-like creature showed.</p><p> </p><p>“Cardinal is League of Assassins,” Nightwing whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“That explains a lot,” Robin grumbled. “But what it doesn’t explain is why his belt has that symbol. Only the Demon’s Head or Heir to the Demon would rank high enough to even consider wearing that symbol...”</p><p> </p><p>A moment of realization seemed to cross all three of them at once.</p><p> </p><p>“Cardinal is Heir to the Demon.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>— BATCAVE COMPUTER 001 — </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Name: Unknown</p><p>Age: Unknown</p><p>      Note: Seems to be in his early twenties</p><p>Height: Unknown</p><p>      Note: Estimates suggest he is roughly 5 feet 9 inches or 5 feet 10 inches</p><p>Gender: Male</p><p>Weight: Unknown</p><p>Eye Color: Unknown</p><p>Hair Color: Black</p><p>      Note: Red feathers are tied into his hair</p><p>      Note: Near shoulder length</p><p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p><p>Alias: The Cardinal</p><p>      Note: Other aliases include Nightshade and Heir to the Demon</p><p>Kill Count: 40 Confirmed Kills</p><p>       Note: He is heir to the League of Assassins, the number is definitely higher. Estimates say ~100 kills at minimum.</p><p>Status: Alive</p><p>       Note: May have been affected by the Lazarus Pit at one point, evidence unclear</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://justthatonegirl1815.tumblr.com/post/633129625659244544/show-chapter-archive">Tim’s suit</a>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Those Who Fight to Win</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Imma about to hit you guys with this cliff hanger and then not post for awhile so I write new chapters, so enjoy that :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey Timmy, I’m back.” Jason said, sitting back down at the gravestone. “Got some news for ya. And maybe you can help me figure all this shit out from beyond the grave or something.”</p><p>Jason pulled several files out of the bag he’d brought with him. “First things first: Cardinal. He’s killed a lot of people. Joker, Strange, Two Face... he killed a Talon last week. I didn’t even think it was possible to kill a Talon. But he did. We found evidence that Cardinal is League of Assassins,and Batman is going to confront Ra’s al Ghul about it later.” He spread the files out and began reading over them. “None of it makes sense. Why would Ra’s send one of his men to Gotham to eliminate all the villains? Why not target the heroes? Even more, where did he get his guy? Demon brat says that the symbol he bears is personally for the Demon’s Head or Demon’s Heir, which means that Ra’s sent his heir to Gotham to kill a bunch of villains. It doesn’t make any sense.</p><p>“Ra’s al Ghul sends assassins to kill people all the time. In the video that we found connecting the League to Cardinal, he was wearing a different suit. It made it obvious that he was from the League. So why change? Is he separate from the League of Shadows now? I just...”</p><p>Jason ran his fingers through his hair. “I feel like you’d know. You’d have a detailed plan and explanation for it all. When it comes to all this detective stuff I just feel like a walking idiot. Best I can do is shoot my way out of a problem. Speaking of, Cardinal isn’t my only problem right now.”</p><p>Jason swept away the files and pulled out another group of files. “Black Mask. I want to just kill the guy, but I have evidence that he’s connected to a human trafficking ring— running a human trafficking ring. And I don’t want to kill him before I find out where it is and how to shut it down.”</p><p>Jason traced the letters of the gravestone again, “You know, this gravestone is really bad. Impersonal. Plus you never liked to be called Timothy. I mean, I figured you didn’t. You always seemed to like Replacement more than Timothy... probably shoulda just called ya Tim though. Sorry bout that.”</p><p>Jason spent the next hour going over the details of the case, simply reading everything he had aloud to Tim, hoping that he’d find his missing part somewhere.</p><p> </p><p>The sun was setting by the time he finished.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think that did anything.” Jason sighed. “Still don’t know shit. Maybe I should just go ask Mask about it myself... heh, that would work. Interrogate Black Mask about his human trafficking ring and then kill him and then go deal with the ring.”</p><p>Jason smiled down at Tim, “It was nice hanging with you, bro. I’ll be back to tell you how that goes.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Badly.</p><p> </p><p>It was going badly.</p><p> </p><p>Since when did Black Mask have so many super assassins? Hood was 99% sure he’d killed them all the last time he’d tried to do this. Key word being tried cause Batman had stopped him.</p><p> </p><p>Not this fucking time.</p><p> </p><p>Still,</p><p> </p><p>This was not good.</p><p> </p><p>He fired off a round into the head of one of the super assassins, and they crumpled— finally one of these assholes was down.</p><p> </p><p>Look, all he wanted to do was kill Black Mask, not deal with some guy with claws and another guy who’s skin looks like it’s made of steel but he’s not exactly sure—</p><p>Don’t get him started on the woman in purple and red that honest to god looks like a Poison Ivy knockoff. He would believe it too if it weren’t for the telekinesis.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck!” He exclaimed as said woman slammed a pipe into his head, cracking his helmet open.</p><p> </p><p>The dude in turquoise armor with a weapon that looked suspiciously like a blue version of Darth Maul’s lightsaber charged at him, weapon coming for Jason’s head. He flipped and landed and— shit he forgot about this guy.</p><p> </p><p>How did he forget about the 10 foot tall mountain of a man? Answer uncertain, probably something to do with the blood coming from his head. Whoops.</p><p> </p><p>A heavy fist flew at Jason, and while he tried to dodge, that wasn’t going to well for him either.</p><p> </p><p>Backup would be nice.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, he’d disconnected his comm link to everyone except Oracle after Tim had died. And seeing as Oracle specifically told him not to do this fifteen minutes before Jason did exactly what he’d been told not to do... yeah, no, in a contest between dying and letting Babs look him in the eye and say “I told you so,” he would happily chose death, thank you very much.</p><p> </p><p>The fist connected with his face, shattering his helmet the rest of the way and sending him flying backwards a good twenty feet.</p><p> </p><p>Spots danced across his vision as he pulled himself to his feet.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you’d put up more of a fight,” The guy with claws commented.</p><p> </p><p>Jason chuckled, lifting his head to glare at them, “The fight is just starting.” He charged them again, refusing to lose here.</p><p> </p><p>He fired off the rest of his rounds, but only two landed— one grazing telekinesis lady’s arm and the other hitting the big guy square in the chest. Despite that last one, big guy didn’t even flinch.</p><p> </p><p>Shit.</p><p> </p><p>Time to get creative.</p><p> </p><p>He slid to the side and kicked out the legs of Turquoise Maul, rising up and hitting him with a hefty elbow to the jaw, knocking him out, or at least, down.</p><p> </p><p>A pair of claws scratched down Jason’s back and he screamed out in pain. The dark spots began to cloud his vision, he could feel his blood running out, he collapsed to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>He blinked, trying to focus again, he needed up— he needed to— ah <em>shit</em>—</p><p> </p><p>In his peripheral vision, he saw Telekinesis lady raise a hand, fingers glowing purple, and he felt his body get picked up off the ground, brought towards her...</p><p> </p><p>“Any last words, Red Hood?” She purred.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” someone, who definitely wasn’t Jason, said. “Congratulations, you just landed yourselves on my hit list.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason knew that voice— his eyes snapped all the way open at the same time three red projectiles embedded themselves in the woman’s skin. Feathers, Jason realized after a moment, shining, metallic... feathers.</p><p> </p><p><em>Zssaap-!</em> The feathers all ignited with electricity, killing the woman in seconds. Jason dropped, body hitting the ground hard.</p><p> </p><p>Everything went to black.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*jazz hands* the feathers!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. And Those Who Fight to Protect</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m back and with a chapter that showcases just how skilled Timmy’s gotten in the past few years :))) And there’s an extra thing in the end notes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim was expecting a quiet night— he’d rent a movie on Vudu, make some popcorn, maybe even make some hot chocolate to go with it and do a face mask or something. You know, self care.</p>
<p>But nooooo, Jason just <em>HAD</em> to be an idiot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Halfway through making his popcorn, a car flew at his window.</p>
<p>Luckily, “his window” was different from his window, so instead of shattering the window in the pocket dimension, it shattered the real world window.</p>
<p>Still, that was kinda annoying. And weird.</p>
<p>Well, this was Gotham so it wasn’t <em>that</em> weird, but last he checked, cars aren’t supposed to go flying at windows— especially not windows on the 13th floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, with a heavy sigh, he left his popcorn in the microwave and put his suit on. He tied in the feathers, adding a few more than usual because this seemed like it might be a fighting situation and the more weapons he had the better, and then he left the pocket dimension.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What he’d found wasn’t all that surprising— Red Hood was fighting people. What <em>was</em> surprising was that he was losing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim crouched on the rooftop for a moment, watching, analyzing. Sure, Jason wasn’t doing too hot, but he was a big boy, he could handle a beating. Besides, Hood wasn’t doing <em>that</em> bad, he’d just shot one of the people he was fighting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim furrowed his eyebrows, beginning to type on his wrist computer. Who exactly was Jason fighting?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The one Jason had just killed— Markus Smith, meta human, regeneration ability. Super assassin.</p>
<p>Claw Guy — Aaron Bolton, normal guy, super suit outfitted with claws and propulsion technology. Super assassin.</p>
<p>Metal skin guy — Steel (wow real original there) Heywood, meta human, skin is permanently made of a steel alloy. Super assassin.</p>
<p>Woman in purple and red — Wanda Lance, metahuman, telekinetic abilities. Super assassin.</p>
<p>Turquoise Amour Guy — Ben Wharton, normal guy, shock resistant armor along with a bō staff designed to function and look like a lightsaber. Super assassin.</p>
<p>Big Guy — Yu Grimm, meta human, gigantic. That’s it. That’s his power. He’s big. Hired muscle/super assassin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Six super assassins— and yes, he was counting the first guy because Tim didn’t know the limits of that guy’s regeneration abilities. A plan began to form in his mind, which was good, because Red Hood wasn’t going to stay standing much longer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Halfway through the plan, his thoughts were interrupted by a gut wrenching scream coming from Red Hood. Tim’s gaze snapped up to see the claw guy step away from Red Hood, leaving ten massive gashes down Red Hood’s back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shit, it had gotten through Jason’s body armor. Tim’s suit was near indestructible, but he wasn’t sure how it would fare against Bolton’s claws, especially since they’d just shredded Hood’s body armor like cheese.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lance raised a hand and dragged Red Hood to her and Tim knew it was time he intervened. He reached up, pulling three feathers from his hair as the woman spoke.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Any last words, Red Hood?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Cardinal interrupted, voice echoing. “Congratulations, you just landed yourselves on my hit list.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He threw the feathers like one would throw cards, watching the material stiffen, sharpening into a deadly projectile. The feathers landed in the woman’s chest, and the electricity activated, killing her instantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Red Hood’s body crumpled, Tim instantly noted that his helmet was shattered and Hood didn’t seem to be conscious. Great...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who the fuck are you?” Steel yelled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal grinned, pulling out his bō and extending it (but keeping the blades retracted, he didn’t need those yet). “Currently your biggest problem.” He replied, and then leapt into battle, immediately rushing towards Big Guy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Big Guy Grimm grunted, falling into a fight stance, but Cardinal wasn’t going to fight this guy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was going to kill him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s a difference.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The former suggests that the other guy stands a chance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He immediately slid under Grimm’s legs, having noted earlier that the man’s large frame also made it easier to get under him. Tim used his bō, striking several nerves as he went before tucking into a roll, grabbing a disc from his coat, and throwing it at Grimm as he crumpled to the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The disc activated and several million volts of electricity entered the man’s nervous system, killing him instantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim liked his electric weapons, okay? They were fun <em>and</em> effective.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Claw Guy Aaron was rushing at Tim, using the jet packs strategically placed along his suit to advance faster. Cardinal rose up, swatting Señor Claws out of the air with a hefty hit of his bō.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not dead, but currently he had another guy to deal with.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Turquoise Ben was coming at Cardinal with his bō/lightsaber rip off, which was currently swinging at Tim’s head. Tim personally didn’t want to know how accurate that weapon was to an actual lightsaber, but he also didn’t have the time to dodge.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal raised his bō, the two weapons colliding with a heavy clang, and oh thank god it wasn’t enough like a lightsaber to break Tim’s bō. He loved that thing, okay?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben Wharton, on the other hand, look absolutely shocked that Cardinal’s bō had stopped his own. “What... that’s not— that’s not possible.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get used to it,” Tim quipped, and then maneuvered his bō, extending the blades and cutting the other bō in half.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal was about to kill the guy when he heard footsteps coming from his left. Ugh, steel guy probably. He retracted his bō.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal flipped upwards, rotating through the air, reaching back into his coat as he did so. One rotation, two, three—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The liquid nitrogen bomb struck the man’s skin, dropping the temperature of the man’s skin from what Tim assumed was a typical 97 degrees Fahrenheit to -320 degrees. The extreme temperature compromised the metal, shattering him instantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal almost wanted to laugh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh, Markus Smith seems to have woken up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not for long.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal dropped, dodging the attack coming for his head, grabbing one of the frozen metal shards as he went, slinging it at Markus, aiming for the femoral artery.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He rose back up, punched the ever loving daylights out of the man’s jaw, before reaching down and pulling the metal out of the man’s thigh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Markus would be dead in oh... less than a minute?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If not, he could always kill him again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Claw Guy Aaron and Ben Wharton were running at Cardinal again, which was annoying because Cardinal had just killed several of their teammates... Personally, Tim would be running <em>away</em> by now. But that was just him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim grabbed a feather from his hair, and nonchalantly threw it at Wharton’s neck, the metal piecing the man’s jugular. Even if the electricity didn’t work, Benny-boi would be bleeding out in a couple of minutes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But this was Tim’s handmade weapon we’re talking about here.<em> Of course</em> the electricity worked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He spun around, bō extending— blades included this time— and sliced through the air, one side of his weapon going up, the other going down— relieving Señor Claws of both of his arms quite quickly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man stumbled back, jaw agape. Cardinal rushed forward, grabbing the man by the collar of his expensive super suit and lifting him off the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who do you work for? Why were you trying to kill Red Hood?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man blubbered, “I— we— Mask. Black Mask— please, it was just a job— I— don’t kill me—“ Bolton begged.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim cocked his head to the side, looking Bolton in the eyes. “Just a job?” He snarled. “Killing is a choice. You made that choice. I made that choice. And your choice was to try and kill Red Hood, a hero, and here’s my choice for you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim snapped the man’s neck, letting the body hit the pavement beneath Tim’s feet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal glanced around, making sure each of the super assassin were dead. The answer seemed to be yes— even regeneration guy. Cardinal cut off his head though, just for good measure.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He approached Red Hood, rolling his body over and checking his pulse. It was faint, but better than the rest of the people here, that was for damn sure.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim pulled a small med kit from his coat, which contained a small vial of Lazarus water— not enough to bring someone back to life or give them any of the dangerous side effects— but enough to mostly heal a bad wound. Such as the gashes down Jason’s back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim shook his head as he flipped Hood back over and poured the water over the gashes, the Lazarus water instantly beginning to work.</p>
<p>“You’re an idiot, you know that?” He asked Hood, knowing that Jason was far too out of it to hear him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, careful to avoid the remaining feathers. “What the hell am I supposed to do with you now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stood, grabbing Jason’s torso in the process. He hauled Hood up onto his shoulder, suddenly very glad that Ra’s had him drag sand bags everyday as part of his warm up (Ra’s said it was to build Tim’s muscle, but Tim was pretty sure it was just so Ra’s could laugh at him as Tim struggled to move 400 pound bags of sand across the arena. Worst part is that it did actually build his muscle mass more than any exercise he’d ever done with Bruce). In comparison to the sand bags, Jason wasn’t too heavy.</p>
<p>He wasn’t exactly light either.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Still, this was his brother. Estranged, sure, but still his brother. His favorite brother, actually. Well, Dick was a close second, he figured.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim carried Jason to where Jason’s motorcycle was parked, slung him over the back of it and stole Jason’s keys, and then drove them both to Jason’s safe house in Gotham.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(He wasn’t about to compromise his safe house okay? Even if it wasn’t exactly in this dimension).</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim hacked into Jason’s safe house, trying not to laugh the entire time as he realized that half of the security was stuff Tim had installed for him ages ago, and then he grabbed Jason and brought him into Jason’s poor excuse for a medbay.</p>
<p>(Not that Tim’s was much better).</p>
<p>The “med bay” was a small room with a bed on it, a couple of cabinets with bandages, IV bags, and various needles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Good news: Tim had been trained by Ra’s al Ghul in thousands of medical practices.</p>
<p>Bad news: Even with the Lazarus water, Jason looked like he’d been put through a paper shredder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim knew Jason would need more Lazarus water soon, but for now Tim would just do what he could. He grabbed the materials he needed to stitch Jason’s back up, along with bandages and gauze, and got to work.</p>
<p>An hour and 12 minutes later, Jason was as good as Tim could make him with what he had on him. He gently patted Jason’s shoulder saying, “I’ll be back, Jaybird.” And then he left, making sure to arm Jason’s security systems again.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Back at his base, Tim grabbed several more vials of Lazarus water, texted Ra’s saying that he was going to need more, noted that his scanners were picking up activity from the Bats in the area that the initial attack had occurred, and then left to go finish up what he’d started.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Do you guys want to read the alternative ending for this chapter that was scraped for logistical, story telling reasons, but was saved in a different folder because the dialogue in it was comedy gold? Of course you do, here it is: </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim had two choices: Bring Hood back to his base and heal him up there, or call the Bats and return their injured son to them. </p>
<p>The first one obviously wasn’t gonna happen, Cardinal still had a lot of work to do and compromising his base was the best way for that work to not get finished. Well, second best. Tim figured that dying might hinder those plans too. </p>
<p>That left the other option, which Tim really didn’t want to do either but this was Jason he was talking about here. His brother. He couldn’t just leave him here— Jason’s condition was too bad, even with his accelerated healing rate and the added Lazarus water, Jason still needed proper medical attention. Surgery, even. </p>
<p>Tim cursed quietly, starting to type on his wrist computer. He’d have to hack into the Batcave systems later to delete his presence— ugh. </p>
<p>His gauntlet blinked red and Tim knew he was connected to the Batcave and Oracle’s computer. He waved awkwardly at the camera. </p>
<p>“Hey there Batsy, got Red Hood down here. Got himself into a fight he couldn’t win. He’s pretty banged up, I did what I could but I’m not exactly a doctor—“ False. Tim had been trained by Ra’s in multiple medicine practices over the last three years. If Tim wanted, he could probably perform brain surgery. Not that he wanted to. “—so I figured I’d call up, let you know. I’ve sent my location, well, Hood’s location. I’ll be long gone by the time you get here. He has severe lacerations down his back, probably a concussion too but I didn’t check, couple broken bones... you get the point. He’s unconscious, obviously.” Tim rotated the projector to show Jason’s body. “Not my doing, in case you were wondering. I told you, you Bats aren’t on my list.” </p>
<p>Tim didn’t really know how to continue— he couldn’t exactly see the people on the end of the line, but he could hear them. </p>
<p>“You saved him?” Nightwing asked. </p>
<p>Tim scoffed, “Well someone fucking had to. He would’ve died if I hadn’t intervened. Told you, not heartless. Just come get him already, I have other plans for tonight.” Yeah, like getting back to his popcorn which was undoubtedly cold by now. Ugh, and he needed to shower now too. This is why he left the superhero life.</p>
<p>“Batman is on his way already. May I ask what other plans? Should we be looking for another body sometime soon?”</p>
<p>Tim glanced around at the six dead super assassins, “Well, you won’t have to look far to find tonight’s kills... but no, I don’t have anyone lined up for tonight, just a movie. Maybe a face mask if I’m feeling extra.”</p>
<p>He could hear Nightwing’s audible confusion, “uh—“ </p>
<p>“Tell me, how’s your investigation going? Any clues as to who I am yet?” </p>
<p>Nightwing paused, “Well... we figured out that you’re the Heir to the Demon.” </p>
<p>Suddenly, Tim was very glad for the mask on his face, hiding his shock. “My my, that doesn’t seem like an easy discovery to come by. I’d love to stay and chat about how you detectives figured that particular one out, but I don’t exactly have the time. Tell Hood that I had fun saving his ass.” </p>
<p>And with that, Tim cut the line.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Jason’s Revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>When Jason came to, he was in his medbay. In his safe house. Alone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t remember how he got here, but he did know that he hadn’t brought himself here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That meant someone had brought him, but he didn’t remember who.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sat up, wincing at the pain in his back. <em>What the...?</em> A large bandage was wrapped around his entire torso, criss crossing his shoulders and reaching all the way down to his hips. <em>Jeez... what kinda of injury warranted that much bandaging? His back didn’t hurt that badly...</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked around, trying to find a clue as to who had brought him here and why.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Huh. Found something.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Slowly, he stood up and ambled over to where a small note was folded up on the counter. He opened it to find a short note written in incredibly neat handwriting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>Red Hood,</em></p>
<p>
  <em>I took care of those super assassins for you. From what I can tell, you were going after Black Mask. I would suggest we team up and take him down, but that’s never going to happen. I stitched you up, you’re welcome.</em>
</p>
<p><em>—Cardinal.</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason stared at the note, read it over again, and again, and then one more time because <em>w h a t</em>. He remembered going after Mask, he remembered fighting the super assassins, he remembered the fact that he’d been winning until he wasn’t, he remembered the scratches down his back—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That injury.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But he couldn’t remember anything after that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Which is probably why Cardinal had intervened. But... Cardinal? Not Batman or Nightwing? Cardinal... had saved him, brought him back to <em>Jason’s</em> base, and stitched him up. He’d even left a note.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason reread the note again. The handwriting was very neat, and he already knew that trying to identify or profile the guy based on the handwriting would fail. He also knew that somehow Cardinal knew how to get into Jason’s base and knew his way around well enough to know where the medbay was. Which is impressive, seeing as the room he calls his medbay isn’t much more than a spare closet that he’d added a twin sized bed and IKEA cabinets to. He would be surprised that Cardinal had gotten past Jason’s security while probably carrying an unconscious and dying Jason, but at this point the man couldn’t surprise him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason ran a hand through his hair, before realizing that he also had a bandage at the base of his head, small but there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sighed, putting the note into a drawer, knowing that he’d want to look at it later, just to confirm that he wasn’t delusional.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason had a problem.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t know what to do with the information he’d gathered. Or rather, remembered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His memory had been returning slowly. He could remember Cardinal’s quip about the assassins having landed themselves on his hit list. He remembered the projectiles— feathers, the ones in Cardinal’s hair, which were suddenly a lot more terrifying— killing the telekinesis lady in one shot. He remembered hitting the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thing was, he also remembered a soft voice, gentle and caring despite the words spoken, “You’re an idiot, you know that?” The words didn’t sound like Cardinal— no, Cardinal’s voice was strong and witty. This was the opposite. Yet, Cardinal had been the only other person there. So it had to have been Cardinal speaking those words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>None of it made any fucking sense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He needed to speak with Cardinal, face to face, blade to gun. He needed to look that motherfucker in the eyes, because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to shake the feeling inside him. The feeling that Cardinal was Tim, even though that was impossible because Tim was dead— Jason had seen the body, touched it, even— but those words... they echoed in his ears, sending shivers down his spine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim Drake was Cardinal. He had to be. Everything went against it but Jason had three major arguments:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One: Hacker. Tech genius.</p>
<p>Two: Knew the Bats personally enough to call them by name and also to plan around them, making sure to avoid them.</p>
<p>Three: Soft spot for the Bats, saved Jason, spoke to him like he was his brother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So yeah.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe those three arguments didn’t prove his case to the world— certainly not to Batman— but they proved it to Jason. His little brother was home. His little brother, no matter how dark and twisted he is now, is here. He’s home.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason just had to find Cardinal and prove it. Not to Batman, not to Nightwing, to himself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Blood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Eight Months Ago</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Ra’s al Ghul,” Tim greeted, bowing slightly because Ra’s was sitting on his throne— something he rarely does when talking to Tim— and there are assassins and advisors lining the sides of the room. This was an official gathering, and while Tim knew that it was official (he was wearing fancy clothing after all), he had no idea what this was about.</p><p> </p><p>“Timothy,” Ra’s al Ghul greeted. Not son, not Detective. Timothy. He had a look on his face that Tim didn’t like. And that was saying something, because Tim had gotten used to most of the weird expressions and mannerisms of Ra’s al Ghul. “Today marks the end of your training. The end of your integration into the League of Shadows. However, that does not mean your trials are over.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim made sure that his expression was entirely neutral and unchanged, despite the confusion and apprehension coursing through him.</p><p> </p><p>“My grandson, Damian al Ghul, once went through a Year of Blood to prove his worth and loyalty to me. And while his mother sent him on that failed mission before he met me, I have decided to use this concept to test you, Timothy. The next three months will be spent as your final test, assuming you accept.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim gulped. He killed people often in his time with the League. He’d killed Captain Boomerang, he’d killed a Talon, he’d killed fifteen others ranging all the way from threats to the League to simple people that had merely gotten in Ra’s’ way. But this... sounded worse. More ruthless. Tim knew plenty about Damian’s Year of Blood. It had trained Damian to be one of the most ruthless killers in the world.</p><p> </p><p>Was Tim ready for that? Could he become a killer that didn’t feel remorse for his kills? Tim had spent the last two years with Ra’s al Ghul, he’d separated himself from his past, his morality, but... could he accept this mission knowing that he wouldn’t come out the same?</p><p> </p><p>Stall, Tim. Ask questions. Clarify.</p><p> </p><p>“If I may ask a question,” Tim stated, voice calm and unwavering.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Ra’s said, though there was doubt in his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“How many people would I be killing in those three months?”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s glare was burning into his skull, but Tim kept his cool. “You would aim to kill all 100 people I assign you to kill.”</p><p> </p><p>100... 100 people.</p><p> </p><p>Tim gulped. He knew what his answer had to be. He knew what he had to do. But still... he’d killed a total of 17 people in the past two years. Now, in the next three months, he’d have to multiple that number by 5. More than 5.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to do this.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to do this. He just wanted to kill the people on his list.</p><p> </p><p>...But if he couldn’t kill these people, if he couldn’t pass this test... then will he still have Ra’s’ support? Will he be able to finish his mission in Gotham? Could he kill villain after villain in Gotham and face his family and friends if he couldn’t even finish this mission?</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to do this. But he did want something else. And Tim was willing to sacrifice everything to achieve that goal.</p><p> </p><p>He looked Ra’s al Ghul in the eye, his gaze challenging, confident. “100 people in three months? Ra’s, please, I thought I was to be your Heir. At least make it a challenge.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a shift in the atmosphere of the room. The advisors and assassins behind Tim who saw nothing more than a boy, a former Bat who didn’t have the guts to kill a man, a kid who was only chosen by Ra’s for his intelligence and persuadablity... they now saw him in a different light. They saw what Ra’s had always seen: the darkness within him. The need to succeed in his mission— even if they had no idea what the mission was. They saw Tim for what he needed them to see him as: Heir to the Demon.</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s’ gaze had changed. He was proud. Intrigued. “In that case, I will choose an extra 50 to add to your list. Is that enough for you, Timothy?”</p><p> </p><p>Tim smiled, sharp and deadly. “150 sounds much more manageable, thank you for understanding my worth. I accept the mission.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The suit he wore for his mission was his standard mission suit. He didn’t know why he’d been expecting something fancy, but he had been.</p><p> </p><p>Black bodysuit, green and gold detailing, utility belt with the Demon’s symbol adorning the middle. He’d worn it several times before, but now it felt different. This was the suit he’d wear for his next 150 kills.</p><p> </p><p>Part of him was wondering why the hell he’d upped the stakes. 100 murders is a lot of murders, why make it 150? Still, he knew his reasoning. His purpose.</p><p> </p><p>Time to get to killing. Or planning, really. Planning, and then a fuck ton of killing.</p><p> </p><p>Tim reached for the list he’d been given ten minutes ago along with the suit. 150 names ran down the pages, with extra details added like age, occupation, location, etc to make it easier for Tim to find, identify, and kill.</p><p> </p><p>First on the list: Rebecca Hark. Age: 47. Location: Los Angeles, California. Occupation: Hairdresser.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Hairdresser?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Okay...</p><p> </p><p>Tim furrowed his eyebrows, skimming down the rest of the list as quickly as possible. Germany, France, Texas, Brazil, India, Chad, Iran, South Africa, Russia, Canada, Egypt, California, Tennessee, North Korea, Sydney, Colombia...</p><p> </p><p>He had targets all across the globe. There was no way he could simply go down the list killing them in order of appearance. He needed to categorize them, preferably by location and then occupation.</p><p> </p><p>Ughhhhh this was going to be a lot of work, wasn’t it?</p><p> </p><p>Well, at least planning was the fun part for him.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hehehe finally getting a look into exactly what Tim had to do to gain Ra’s’ full support and to also become the ruthless killer Cardinal is... sorry there was no Jason content after that last chapter tho...</p><p>ALSO <a href="https://justthatonegirl1815.tumblr.com/post/637595233350254592/asadjsnbaisbhbajnuhvdnjanhjb-thank-you-this-is">FANART</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. A Meeting with the Demon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter is a week early in celebration of me going to see WW84 today :) Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Damian paced the aisle of the Batplane, hands in tight fists at his sides. Grandfather... had replaced him? It shouldn’t sting the way it did... he never liked the man anyways... yet...</p><p> </p><p>Father and Damian were on their way to Nanda Parbat to face Grandfather, to ask him why he’d sent his heir to Gotham. What was the point in this? What rewards could Grandfather possibly glean from having his heir dress in odd attire and take down the villains of Gotham?</p><p> </p><p>It made no sense.</p><p> </p><p>Not to mention that Damian hadn’t actually confronted Grandfather in years... four to be exact. Grandfather has been suspiciously out of the spotlight... though that would make sense if he were sending some random heir to do all of his dirty work. Disgusting.</p><p> </p><p>Damian had rewatched the video over and over, desperately trying to see what was so great about Cardinal that Grandfather would chose him to be his heir. Sure, he managed to kill over thirty people in a span of ten minutes, but anyone could do that given a working machine gun. Was it the snarky comments that drew Grandfather to him? That didn’t make much sense seeing as Grandfather was all no nonsense in Damian’s memories of him, but Damian honestly couldn’t see any other reason for Grandfather to choose him.</p><p> </p><p>Was... was he related to Damian? Was this a bloodties thing and Grandfather had to choose Cardinal because Damian had skipped out on the whole heir-to-the-demon title? Was this imbecile just next in line?</p><p> </p><p>“Damian,” Father’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Stop pacing. Take a nap. You’ll need your energy.”</p><p> </p><p>Damian stared at him. “You say that as if you plan on a fight.”</p><p> </p><p>“I say that knowing that given our track record with Ra’s al Ghul, it will most likely end in a fight.”</p><p> </p><p>And yeah, that was fair. Damian huffed. “I will lay down then.” He crossed over to one of the benches in the jet and laid flat on his back, but did not close his eyes. His mind was racing, trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together.</p><p> </p><p>Either he was shit at puzzles, or he was missing a lot of pieces.</p><p> </p><p>The hours passed by quickly, and in that time, all Damian could think of was the smirk plastered on Cardinal’s face each time he made a kill. The only thing he could hear was the smoothly spoken, “Damian al Ghul Wayne.” Of course. They could’ve figured it out just from that. Cardinal knew Damian’s full heritage... because he was the one to replace Damian.</p><p> </p><p>Why did he even care? Damian had left that life. It’s not like he’d been replaced in something important to him, like the Robin mantle. It’s not like what he did to Drake—</p><p> </p><p>Shit.</p><p> </p><p>Don’t—</p><p> </p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut.</p><p> </p><p>Damian has a mission to complete, he can’t— he won’t— not now—</p><p> </p><p>The dull steel blue eyes of Timothy Drake penetrated his mind. Fuck—</p><p> </p><p>“Damian, we’re here.” Father’s voice called out. Damian sat up, forcing thesoft voice of Timothy from his mind. He’d always thought Drake was weak before, when he heard that voice... now he just hears it as broken.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, hindsight doesn’t do any good when the person you’re remembering is dead.</p><p> </p><p>He still remembers the body—</p><p> </p><p>No.</p><p> </p><p>Focus.</p><p> </p><p>Work.</p><p> </p><p>Cardinal. Grandfather.</p><p> </p><p>This has nothing to do with Drake. Timothy. Fuck—</p><p> </p><p>Damian inhaled slowly, counting to seven. Held his breath for seven. Released for seven more. Seven, seven, seven. An unlucky number for anything except keeping his mind at bay.</p><p> </p><p>He left the jet, katana strapped to his back, fingers itching to pull it out and fight, just to get rid of the pain in his head.</p><p> </p><p>Father was looking at him, seemingly concerned.</p><p> </p><p>“I am fine.” He snapped.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t ask,” Father replied.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t have to.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Ra’s.” Batman’s voice said.</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s al Ghul didn’t acknowledge him, but he did take a sip of his wine.</p><p> </p><p>Good to know the man is still as pretentious as Damian remembers him.</p><p> </p><p>“Grandfather,” he greeted coldly.</p><p> </p><p>“Damian. Detective. Please,” Ra’s finally acknowledged them, gesturing to the seats across the table. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p> </p><p>Neither Batman nor Robin moved from where they stood. “Cardinal,” Batman grunted, immediately jumping straight to the point. “Why did you send him to Gotham?”</p><p> </p><p>“Cardinal?” Ra’s replied, turning to face then. “I know not of who you speak.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cut the horseshit—“ Damian started, angrily. “We know you have a new heir, and we know that it’s Cardinal.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, you speak of ابني.” Ra’s said, and Damian did a double take.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Son?</em>” He asked, incredulously, spluttering in surprise.</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s hummed an affirmation, “Please, do sit down, I’ll tell you all about my heir. That is, if you can bear to hear how superior he is to you, Robin.”</p><p> </p><p>Damian seethed.</p><p> </p><p>Father set a hand down on his shoulder. “Go back to the plane, I will take this from here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like hell I will—“</p><p> </p><p>“Damian. Go back to the plane.”</p><p> </p><p>The green glow of Ra’s al Ghul’s eyes followed him as he huffed and walked back to the plane, his pride barely intact.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Bruce took a seat across the table from Ra’s, and a servant came over, pouring him a glass of wine. He ignored it.</p><p> </p><p>“Explain. Who is he? Why have you sent him to Gotham?”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s didn’t answer for a long moment, but when he did, the words seemed to cause Bruce’s chest to ice over. “I did not send him. He sent himself.”</p><p> </p><p>Bruce growled, “And you let him?”</p><p> </p><p>“Let my most successful, most affluent heir wreak havoc on Gotham? The home city to my most troublesome rival, therefore keeping you out of my way? Of course I let him. He is more than skilled enough to take you down. I made sure of it.”</p><p> </p><p>Batman took a breath in, making sure to keep his cool. “What makes you say that?”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s locked his unnaturally green eyes with Bruce’s, finally giving him his full attention. And in that gaze, Bruce saw pride, confidence, and something else he couldn’t explain. When Ra’s spoke, his words were sharp, and said with a certainty that Bruce had never heard from the man before.</p><p> </p><p>“Because he’s done it once before.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Alstroemeria, Lily, and Solidago</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yoooo thank you for the 1k kudos’ guys! Hope you like the chapter! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason’s mission to find Cardinal was going badly.</p><p> </p><p>But it was going badly for everyone, so he tried not to beat himself up about it.</p><p> </p><p>That was also going badly.</p><p> </p><p>But, maybe, just maybe, Jason had a lead.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe.</p><p> </p><p>He crouched on the rooftop nearest to where he’d been fighting those super assassins, and scanned the area. He’d been doing this every night since his little realization. Can he even call it that? It was more like a hunch than anything. A bunch of coincidences that piled up into something that was vaguely Tim shaped.</p><p> </p><p>But, if Cardinal was Tim, then he had to find him. And if he wasn’t? Well... things would probably get real awkward real fast.</p><p> </p><p>He crouched on the rooftop and waited, just like he had been for the past week.</p><p> </p><p>He waited.</p><p> </p><p>And he waited.</p><p> </p><p>When the sun rose over Gotham city, Jason gave up once again, and retreated back to his place. Tomorrow then.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tim looked out the window, and waved his hand through the fog of the pocket dimension, forcing the weird physics of this place to show him the outside world in further clarity.</p><p> </p><p>Once again, he saw Red Hood, on the rooftop across the street, scanning the area with careful eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe the note was too much?</p><p> </p><p>Ah, whatever, it’s not like Tim cared. Avoiding Hood wasn’t that difficult, and Tim knew he couldn’t see into the pocket dimension. He figured Hood would give up eventually.</p><p> </p><p>Speaking of the Bats... Batman and Robin got back from a trip to Nanda Parbat yesterday evening.</p><p> </p><p>And that’s what led to Tim pulling out his phone and dialing Ra’s, while still looking out the window at where his brother waited for the fifth night in a row.</p><p> </p><p>“ابني” Ra’s greeted.</p><p> </p><p>“So, were Bruce and Damian decent guests?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ever perceptive, as always. They’ve discovered Cardinal’s connection to the League. More specifically that you are my Heir. They haven’t figured out your name yet, though.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim hummed, watching as Hood heard a noise and immediately turned to check it out. Poor guy. “What did you tell them?”</p><p> </p><p>“The truth.”</p><p> </p><p>“The truth’s a dangerous thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Indeed,” Ra’s replied. “I gave them enough to run with for a bit. That you sent yourself here, that you’re far better than Damian ever was—“ Tim chokes back a laugh. “—and that I have every confidence that you could take the Batman down.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He knew that already.</p><p> </p><p>“Imagine the surprise on the Detective’s face when I told him you’d already done it once before.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Tim asked, completely caught off guard. “I— <em>when? What?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s’ chuckle sounded through the phone and Tim distinctly recognized it as the Dark-Murder-y one. “Don’t be so naive, ابني. You broke all of the Bats with one simple action. Killing yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim sucked in a breath of realization. “Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm, yes. <em>Oh</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, how did— how did Bruce take that? And Damian?”</p><p> </p><p>“Damian was sent out of the room before that point. As for the Detective, he was clearly trying to remember getting beaten in combat by a child.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim paused, considering his next words. “Well... Cass could do it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course she could. She’s far better than even you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah... I know.” Tim said, sounding dejected despite the smile on his face.“Maybe one day, I’ll figure out how to win against her.”</p><p> </p><p>“I doubt it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re quite welcome. How is your mission going?”</p><p> </p><p>“I go after Penguin in two days. A week after, Black Mask. Then Kirk Langstrom. Then Scarecrow. So on and so forth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds eventful. I found a news article on your broadcast from a week and a half ago. Truly entertaining work you’ve done there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Glad to know my murderous exploits are at least entertaining for you.” Tim replied dryly.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, quite. And how is your mental state? I know that being back home is taking a toll on you.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim frowned, taken aback by the question and the caring tone in Ra’s’ formal words. “My mental state is fine.” He said cautiously. Was this a test?</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s was silent for a long moment, “Good.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” Tim replied. He stared out the window at Red Hood as the silence over the line continued. “Anyways, goodnight, Ra’s.” He finally said awkwardly.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, have a goodnight, ابني. Sleep well.” Ra’s replied smoothly.</p><p> </p><p>The line ended.</p><p> </p><p>Tim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It’s been years and yet this whole Ra’s being a good father figure for him thing was still throwing him off. He shook his head and turned around, ripping his eyes away from Hood’s crouched figure and instead going into his kitchen to make some tea.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey Timmy,” Jason greeted, taking off his helmet and sitting down at the grave. Yet another failed night of looking for Cardinal. Not to mention that the human trafficking ring was still a problem he had yet to solve. Ughh...</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know why I’m here.” He stated dryly. “Fuck...” he whispered, and put his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. “Where are you, Replacement? What are you doing? What happened to you?”</p><p> </p><p>He stayed silent for awhile, his mind racing with thoughts he didn’t know how to verbalize. The sun started rising higher into the sky as he sat there, full armor, unmoving at Tim’s grave.</p><p> </p><p>“I just... maybe I’m going fucking insane. Again. I miss you.” Jason exhaled slowly. “I miss you. So goddamn much. And I don’t care if you’re a psycho assassin or whatever now because if you’re you then... then maybe I have a chance to make everything right? I don’t... I just fucking... fuck.”</p><p> </p><p>He wiped a tear from where it had escaped from under his domino mask and sat up to straighter, trying to pull himself together. But then his eyes caught a familiar shock of salt and pepper hair across the cemetery. What the...</p><p> </p><p>He stood up quickly, realizing that he was in his Red Hood gear and Grant was right there and there was no way the business man didn’t just make that connection—</p><p>Jason started to turn and walk away hurriedly before that goddamn British accent spoke up.</p><p> </p><p>“Seems this Timothy guy is popular, eh?” The man said, walking closer. Jason kept his back to the man, tense.“I met his brother a couple weeks ago, nice fellow, if a bit rough around the edges. Told me his brother committed suicide. I never knew the kid, but I keep thinking back on it.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason’s mind was currently a whirlwind of <em>whatthefuck whatthefuck whatthefuck?</em></p><p> </p><p>“Did you know him too?” Grant asked casually, and Jason heard the ruffling of what sounded like flowers.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Jason said gruffly. “He was nice.” <em>What the fuck was happening?</em></p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that’s good. If there’s two people vouching for him then that means I made the right choice in spending $150 dollars on flowers.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason whirled around in confusion, only to find Grant crouching at the grave arranging a massive bouquet of flowers in front of Tim’s grave.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck?” He finally voiced his inner thought process.</p><p> </p><p>Grant stood and looked Jason directly in the eye, despite being several inches shorter and there being a domino mask still covering Jason’s face. The British man lifted an eyebrow, “Well, had I known Red Hood would be visiting, I would’ve picked a different day to do this.”</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck?” Jason repeated, because he couldn’t wrap his head around whatever the fuck was happening here.</p><p> </p><p>The man smiled, “Don’t worry, I know how to keep a secret.” He then reached into a bag that Jason hadn’t realized he was holding and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. The same kind Grant had bought him the first time he’d brought Jason here.</p><p> </p><p>Jason stared at it before slowly accepting it.</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you..” Jason couldn’t even get the full sentence out. His brain was unfortunately still stuck on the what the fuck train.</p><p> </p><p>“Bring flowers? Or the whiskey?”</p><p> </p><p>“Both.”</p><p> </p><p>“Flowers were for your brother,” Grant replied, somewhat slowly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Whiskey is for you. Take a night off, Red Hood, you can’t keep crouching on the same rooftop for forever.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason’s gaze snapped up from the bottle in his hands to Grant’s way too fucking kind eyes. “What the fuck? How the fuck—“</p><p> </p><p>Grant shrugged, “I walk by that building all the time. First night I thought you were a suicide jumper... second night I got some binoculars and saw your armor, and then the third, and fourth, and fifth, and—“</p><p> </p><p>“Okay I get it. Fuck, what is your problem with getting into my business?”</p><p> </p><p>Grant smiled at him, eyes crinkling. “Not trying to, mate. We just keep crossing paths. But honestly, after I saw you out there again tonight, I’m getting kinda worried. What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Jason scowled and turned away, “None of your goddamn business.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right, sorry. Just... take a day off please? For me?”</p><p> </p><p>“I sure as hell ain’t doing anything for you.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> He continued to stomp away.</span></p><p> </p><p>“Then for your brother?”</p><p> </p><p><em>Fuck</em>. Jason stopped and huffed a sigh. “One night. Then I have to go back.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason knew that behind him, Grant had just broken out into a massive grin. Fuck that bastard...</p><p> </p><p>“What’s so important about that rooftop anyways? Should I be taking a different route home?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking... nothing. Just forget about it. Cardinal probably won’t go after a goody two shoes like you anyways.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Cardinal?</em>” The man sounded shocked and scared. Damn, Jason shouldn’t have said that.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, like I said, forget about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“But... isn’t that the guy who hacked everything a while back? Isn’t he supposed to be dangerous?” Grant was clearly hesitant to ask now.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah it is. Just stay out of his fucking way and let me deal with him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh... okay. Yeah, o..okay, I’ll trust you mate.” Grant said, though his voice was shaking. Jason decided to take the man’s momentary distraction as a chance to get the hell of out there.</p><p> </p><p>But right before he melted into the shadows once again, helmet placed back on his head where it should be, he spoke up. “Thanks, Grant... Tim’s always liked flowers.”</p><p> </p><p>And then he disappeared.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Back at the graveyard though, “Grant” turned to face the gravestone with a small smile on his face. “I know...” He whispered, dropping the British accent and sitting down in front of the flowers to touch their soft petals and smell the sweet scent emanating from them.</p><p> </p><p>At least he got what he wanted. Red Hood would be taking the night off tomorrow, leaving Cardinal one less vigilante to avoid when he moved to take out Penguin.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Penguin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heyo! I’m back with a new chapter!<br/>You know, I wanted to update last Monday, but my friend told me that “having a schedule is important” And uh,,, I’ve never had a schedule before, so idk why I listened. <br/>Anyways, I’ve been writing a lot recently and now have 10 chapters of this story prewritten, and I’m like,,, so psyched to get around to some of them. This chapter feels tame in comparison to what’s in store. Getting around to major plot points is exciting hehe :) <br/>Anyways, have fun!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Name: Oswald Cobblepott</p><p>Age: 48</p><p>Height: 5 feet 2 inches</p><p>Gender: Male</p><p>Weight: 175 lbs (79 kilograms)</p><p>Eye Color: Blue</p><p>Hair Color: Black</p><p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p><p>Note: He is recognized by his pointy nose</p><p>Alias: The Penguin</p><p>Kill Count: 185 confirmed kills</p><p>Note: this number includes his step siblings, who he killed and then served as dinner to his step mother.</p><p>Note: Maybe don’t let him near any cooking utensils</p><p>Status: Alive</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tim was happy to say that his little ploy with Jason had actually worked and that Jason was currently in his safe house, going through a few files on Black Mask. He wasn’t sleeping like Tim was hoping for, but at the least the guy wasn’t stalking Cardinal at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Tim closed the cameras to Jason’s safe house and switched to the Batcave, typing a few lines to hide his presence once again. Bruce was hunched in front of the Batcomputer, pouring over several files that Tim couldn’t completely make out, but the image of his Cardinal persona on one of them made it obvious what Batman was researching. He was also pretty sure the folder on the right was Ra’s’ folder. Oh nice.</p><p> </p><p>Other than Batman, the cave was deserted. The others were either out patrolling or resting. Hm...</p><p> </p><p>Tim closed that camera as well and instead switched to his scanners around the city, checking for activity from the rest of the Bats. Signal had apparently been active a few hours ago, when the sun was still shining. Nothing from Robin... Nightwing was in the south section... nothing from Spoiler either... Great!</p><p> </p><p>Penguin was in his club, the Iceberg Lounge, which Tim had placed a few scanners and cameras in and around yesterday when he was parading around the city as Grant. He opened the cameras for the Lounge, and took a moment to take a mental inventory of everything that was happening there.</p><p> </p><p>Cobblepott himself was sitting in a booth, sipping on an expensive drink that Tim recognized as something Ra’s had served him before, and across from him was someone Tim didn’t recognize but pinned as a either a drug smuggler or human trafficker, judging by general appearance. Standing near the table was a pair of bodyguards, whether for Penguin or for the other guy, it wasn’t clear. </p><p> </p><p>Tim frowned and ran a facial recognition on the other guy, just to make sure he wasn’t going to be a bigger problem than Tim was expecting.</p><p> </p><p>...aaaand nope, just a drug smuggler. Great. Combat experience probably limited to gun and punch.</p><p> </p><p>Tim smirked and got ready to commit yet another homicide.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Cardinal didn’t bother with any sneaking around when it came to killing Penguin. He simply walked right through the front door of the Iceberg Lounge and smirked as various patrons recognized him and scattered like the rats from Ratatouille. His stride was confident as he made his way to Penguin’s booth.</p><p> </p><p>The drug smuggler was still there, as were the body guards. Tim tranquilized both of the guards before they could even draw their guns all the way, and then threw a feather from his hair at the drug dealer, watching it embed in the man’s eye and activate with electricity.</p><p> </p><p>Someone screamed. But it wasn’t the drug dealer, he was too dead to scream.</p><p> </p><p>Penguin was currently trying to run, pulling a knife out of his coat and throwing it wildly in Tim’s direction. Cardinal let it sail past him easily.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey hey hey,” Penguin held his hands up, stumbling backwards in fear. “We don’t have to— you can just not kill me— wouldn’t that be a better idea? You already killed those guys, why not just—“</p><p> </p><p>Tim raised an eyebrow under his mask and stopped his pursuit of Penguin. He raised a gloved hand to his chin in contemplation, “You’re right, Ossie. I think I’ll leave actually.”</p><p> </p><p>Penguin’s eyes widened, “Wait, wait really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhmm, I mean, why would I kill you? You’re such a nice guy... the worst you’ve ever done is murder... ohhh 150 people?” Tim dropped his hand and pulled out his bō, blades extended, the lights of the club catching on the gleaming metal.</p><p> </p><p>Penguin started stumbling backwards again, pulling out a gun from his coat this time and—</p><p> </p><p>The gun went off, and Tim deflected the bullet with his bō with careful precision.</p><p> </p><p>Penguin’s body hit the floor, a bullet hole in the space between his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Tim walked all the way up to Cobblepott’s corpse, “Ah, what a shame.” He said dryly, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I had no intention of killing you, but look at what you’ve done. Tsk tsk...”</p><p> </p><p>Penguin didn’t answer his taunts. Obviously.</p><p> </p><p>Cardinal sighed and then cut off Cobblepott’s head anyways. Gotta get that trademark kill technique in. Plus... Tim’s seen too many people come back from the “dead” when it was just a bullet wound. Decapitation though... much less temporary.</p><p> </p><p>He collapsed his bō and put it back into his coat in one fluid motion and spun around on his heel, moving to walk out just like he’d come in.</p><p> </p><p>What few patrons remained in the building were huddled behind tables and bars, phones out, recording. Oh dear... he hoped none of that became an out of context tik tok... had he accidentally said anything meme worthy?</p><p> </p><p>Cardinal strode out the front door, turned a corner into a dark alley away from prying eyes, and faded into nothingness.</p><p> </p><p>Batman was three minutes late to the scene.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Name: Oswald Cobblepott</p><p>Age: 48</p><p>Height: 5 feet 2 inches</p><p>Gender: Male</p><p>Weight: 175 lbs (79 kilograms)</p><p>Eye Color: Blue</p><p>Hair Color: Black</p><p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p><p>Note: He is recognized by his pointy nose</p><p>Alias: The Penguin</p><p>Kill Count: 185 confirmed kills</p><p>Note: this number includes his step siblings, who he killed and then served as dinner to his step mother.</p><p>Status: Deceased</p><p>Note: Killed by the Cardinal on September 18th 2022.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Rest in Pieces Penguin. He will not be missed. </p><p>ALSO!</p><p>You’ll notice that in the end (end) notes is a discord invite link! That’s a new thing as of like yesterday, and it’s basically a DC server + QUARANTINED: RED ROBIN’S TIK TOK ACCOUNT and a Rise of Cardinal server. Idk if anyone will care to join, but the invite is open :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Bathed in Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Eight Months Ago</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Tim collapsed onto the floor of the mediocre hotel room he was staying in, feeling the scratchy carpet beneath his fingertips, the air that smelled just a bit too much like cheap detergent, and the—</p><p> </p><p>Ten people. He’d killed the first ten people tonight. Ten people out of 150.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—</p><p> </p><p>He could see it in his mind’s eye— that light in those people’s eyes. He’d watched as the life had left their bodies and it had been his fault—</p><p> </p><p>He’d killed them as gently as possible, tried to make it painless for them. He’d tried to make sure they weren’t scared.</p><p> </p><p>But.</p><p> </p><p>These weren’t villains. They were normal people. People who got up in the mornings and stumbled to the kitchen for a mug of coffee, people who grumbled about work and kissed their loved ones goodbye on the way out of the house. They were <em>people</em>.</p><p> </p><p>And they were people that wouldn’t be coming home tonight. They were people whose bodies wouldn’t be found because Tim hadn’t <em>left</em> a body and they—</p><p> </p><p>His hands were shaking and his toes were curled tightly inside his shoes, his breathing labored as he tried to calm himself because this wasn’t what he had signed up for—</p><p> </p><p>No no no no this wasn’t what he’d signed up for. He wanted to save Gotham. He wanted to rid it of it’s crime and finally, <em>finally</em> watch people go outside at night and not be terrified. He wanted Bruce to finally get some rest in his old age. He wanted Damian and Steph to not have to keep fighting for their lives and for other people’s lives. He wanted Jason to be able to take a night off and swing over to Dick’s place in Bludhaven to watch a movie. He was doing this all for them. For the worn and ragged vigilantes of Gotham who felt the guilt pull their hearts deeper into the abyss if they couldn’t save someone. For the civilians of Gotham to feel safe in their own city. And he thought that he would do anything for it— <em>for</em> <em>them</em>.</p><p> </p><p>But there’s blood underneath his fingernails and his heart is hammering in his chest and he’s scared—</p><p> </p><p>Not of the normal things to be scared of. His heart isn’t beating out of control because of the Joker laughing in his face, his hands aren’t shaking because of fear toxin, he isn’t staring Killer Croc down, he isn’t watching someone he loves get killed. No. He’s scared because he’s worked so hard the last two years to get strong enough, fast enough, skilled enough, to take down every villain in Gotham. He’s scared because this isn’t what he signed up for. He’s scared because he had 140 people left on his list and—</p><p> </p><p>He’s scared of himself.</p><p> </p><p>Of the ruthless killer he’s afraid he’s going to become.</p><p> </p><p>He’s scared that somewhere in these months of blood, he’s going to forget who he is and why he’s here. He’s scared that he’ll become Ra’s’ puppet.</p><p> </p><p>Ten people were dead now because of him. Ten people who weren’t villains. Ten people who were innocent. This went against everything he stood for, everything he was doing this to become.</p><p> </p><p>His mission suit was made of a material that usually felt smooth and comfortable, but now it was constricting around him, the glinting metal of the Demon’s Head on his belt was taunting him, as if Ra’s’ voice was calling to him, saying, “<em>You wanted this ابني.”</em></p><p> </p><p>No, he didn’t want this. He didn’t—</p><p> </p><p>But once again, there was something he wanted. He still wanted to save Gotham. He had to save Gotham because in all the years Bruce has been fighting, nothing, <em>nothing</em> has changed. Villains still killed and killed and corrupted and—</p><p> </p><p>Tim could make a difference. He would.</p><p> </p><p>He would.</p><p> </p><p>Tim didn’t matter. His morality didn’t matter. He would give anything— anything— to save Gotham. To save his family. It didn’t matter how much blood got stained on his hands, it didn’t matter if he couldn’t look Bruce in the eye after this, because his family would be safe. Gotham would be safe. And it didn’t matter what happened to Tim as long as the people he loved were safe.</p><p> </p><p>He took a shuttering, deep breath, feeling the air rush into his lungs.</p><p> </p><p>He was okay. These were people who didn’t deserve to die, yes. But how many more innocent people would die by the hands of Gotham’s villains? How many heroes would fall, would get beaten to death with a crowbar, or would find themselves staring at photos of their loved ones until they couldn’t see the ink through their tears anymore? 150 targets... and then he could do what he’d set out to do two and a half years ago.</p><p> </p><p>Everything would be okay.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t feel like it now, because his hands are still shaking and he can still hear the panicked whimpers of the fourth person he’d killed, but it will be. One day, his mission will be over. And his loved ones will be safe.</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t matter that his morality was no longer in shades of black and white, it didn’t matter that it was now bathed in red, because the end goal was good. It was pure. And in the end, the only villain in Gotham that will be left is him. And that’ll be okay, because he’ll leave Gotham too. He’ll leave Gotham to it’s heroes who will have an easier life, and everything will be okay.</p><p> </p><p>It will.</p><p> </p><p>It will.</p><p> </p><p>Tim takes another breath and pulls himself together, gathering his feet underneath him and standing, knowing that tomorrow will be another day of killing. And knowing that he will have this crisis again, but that he has to remember that everything he’s doing had a purpose, and that it doesn’t matter if he becomes a cold and ruthless killer.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t matter.</p><p> </p><p>Something like determination swelled in his chest. Something like hope. Something like happiness.</p><p> </p><p>He was Tim Drake, and he didn’t matter. But the people he cared about did. And that’s what made this mission important.</p><p> </p><p>He was Tim Drake, and he would save Gotham, even if it meant sacrificing himself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Hatred</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heyo! I’m back with a new and painful chapter! Enjoy :D</p>
<p>(Also thanks to everyone who’s joined my server so far! It’s so much fun having you guys!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason was pissed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No, beyond pissed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course, <em>of fucking course</em>, on the one night he decided to take off, that’s when Cardinal finally fucking shows up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason would say he’s going to punch a wall, but the thing is, he’s already done that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wanted to go fucking find Grant and pummel his face in, and for a moment, he found himself grabbing his nearest gun and storming out of the door of his apartment before remembering, hey, the guy didn’t know, and unfortunately he’s a decent human being who has a track record for buying Jason expensive alcohol, which he really needs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So instead he threw his gun at the wall and watched the plaster dent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ha, take that you stupid fucking wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Tim. His mind was connecting pieces that weren’t even there. The lilt in Cardinal’s voice that sounded like when Tim roasted Damian for being a brat, or that calculating head tilt Cardinal gives that’s so similar to Tim’s when heard something that interests him. Jason didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it before, but now that he was paying attention, rewatching the very few clips they had on Cardinal and the somehow even fewer ones they had of Tim... it all made more sense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He still had no solid proof. He didn’t have any real reason to say that Cardinal was Tim Drake, but he could feel it in his gut. In his heart. The little things were adding up, and he knew that Bruce was too lost in the mystery of Cardinal to even look at the suit in the display case and remember the tiny little things about Tim that shown through in Cardinal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason didn’t have much in the way of videos and photos of Tim. No one did. They’d figured that out when he’d died— Tim was always the one behind the camera, and never the one in front of it. That made the one video of him that Jason had so special.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t even have to fight Dick for it. The man had been too lost in his grief and guilt to even look Jason in the eye when Jason had took the flash drive with the only video evidence of Timothy Drake Wayne on it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a shaky video Dick had taken in the cave, after Tim had found his old skateboard hidden deep in the depths of his disaster of a closet and had pulled it out to ride once again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Tim was leisurely rolling around the cave, the wheels of his board bumping over every divet in the concrete flooring, a smile on his face.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I’m just saying, Dick. You get your razor scooter, Jason can buy a hoverboard, I’ll take my skateboard, and we can get Damian a tiny kid bike with some training wheels on it and the four of us can roll down the streets of Gotham like we own the place.” Tim had a ridiculous grin on his face and Dick was laughing behind the camera as Tim flailed his arms, chuckling as he tried to explain the reasonings for this dumb idea.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Bruce has been getting some bad press lately! What better way to fix it than to show all four of the Wayne boys being boys? The paparazzi will love it!”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Dick was struggling to breathe behind the camera as he laughed at Tim, saying, “Jason isn’t even officially alive.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Well!” Tim threw his head and arms back, causing him to lose balance on his skateboard as he proclaimed, “What better way to ahh—!” A thump and a crash were heard as Tim landed hard on the ground and his skateboard went careening into the nearest display case, the one holding Jason’s old robin suit.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Whoops,” Tim help up a hand to his mouth and looked at the camera before laughing again. “Ehh, Jason never liked that case anyways.”</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The video ended when Dick couldn’t keep himself holding the camera upright anymore because he’d collapsed on the floor with laughter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason had watched the video several times before. He’d spent long nights in the weeks after Tim’s death replaying the video over and over again until the sun rose. He’d stopped watching it not long after he’d put the note in Tim’s base at Monarch Theater, because it hurt too much. It hurt too much to see Tim laughing and joking as he rolled around on an old and beat up skateboard. It hurt too much, because he realized that he could remember the way Tim laughed now. The lilts in it and the way he would have to stop laughing to take a breath of air, only to get it caught halfway through the breath because he’d started laughing again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A tear slid down Jason’s face, just like it always did each time he’d watched this video.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damn, he’d failed Tim once. He’d failed him. That boy on the skateboard was gone, he was cold, he was a killer, and he was Ra’s’ fucking puppet.</p>
<p>And Jason missed him.</p>
<p>He had to get Tim back, to take him out of Ra’s’ filthy hands and give his brother a hug.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had to. Because he was the only one who knew that Cardinal was Tim. He was the only one who’d died and been resurrected by Ra’s al Ghul and gone on a murder spree. He was the one who had to fix this, he was the one who had to bring his little brother home.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick Grayson didn’t hate. Well, that wasn’t true. There just weren’t a lot of things in this world that he could truly, truly hate. The Joker was on the list of people he hated, but Joker was dead, so... Another thing that was on his list of things he hated was the way Bruce would work himself to exhaustion on a case, constantly looking for more, for even the most arbitrary evidence to connect villains to. Dick hated the way it felt when he thought about his failings in life, the way his heart would pull and his throat tighten up, like he couldn’t breathe anymore. He hated helplessness and uselessness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But other than those things, that list of things that anyone would hate if they had to experience it, he didn’t hate much. He was a lover, and he loved a lot of things.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He loved his brothers most of all. He loved to wrap Damian in a hug anytime the boy started blaming himself, he loved to banter with Jason to keep the pretense of their old life up, and he loved Tim. <em>He loved Tim</em>. So where did he go wrong?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim used to call him anytime he felt bad, he would call Dick and they’d both sit down in their respective rooms, Tim curling up on his coffee stained bedspread and Dick on the couch in his living room and they’d talk for hours. Tim would talk about whatever was bringing him down and Dick would talk about that new ice cream shop down the street and how it’s okay to feel bad but not to let it consume you and—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another thing that was slowly making its way onto the list of people he hated was Cardinal. He wasn’t quite there yet, but getting close. Dick could see the smirk that plastered across Cardinal’s lips, the ever present sass, and the ruthless movements of the man that tore down the walls built around Gotham, around Batman, and around Dick himself. It was... unnerving, just how much the man knew. How Cardinal knew how to plan around them meticulously, how he seemed to know everything way before the Bats.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But most of all, Dick couldn’t get that image out of his mind. The smooth, yet grating words of Cardinal over their speaker system. “<em>Tim Drake is a dead man... or should I say boy?</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Damn him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick was staying in one of Bruce’s safe houses in the south end instead of in the Manor, so that the Bats could be spread out across the entire city. It would be easier to catch Cardinal that way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But there were more things worrying Dick, Jason for example. He’s been withdrawn ever since Cardinal killed Hugo Strange in front of him without ever showing his face. And even more so in the past week... Dick usually would never say it, not about brash and confident Jason Todd, but it seemed like his little brother was scared.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason won’t answer his calls, but activity from Red Hood shows him staking out the same place for nights on end. Dick found himself pacing the floor of the safe house he’s staying in, socked feet making little sound against the hardwood flooring, phone pressed to his ear and ringing again and again. Because Penguin had been killed only a few hours ago, and they’d finally gotten all of the blood tests back from the samples they’d taken from Cardinal’s murder spree some weeks back. And he was pacing the floors and calling his brother again because they’d found Jason’s blood amongst the samples they’d taken. Jason had seen Cardinal, and had gotten injured in the fight. And now he was suddenly taking to staking out one rooftop instead of fighting... which had to mean something had happened. Either Jason had only gotten injured, and Dick had no idea how badly, or he’d gotten a lead as well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And that’s the problem. Dick doesn’t know. All he knows is this is the fifteenth time he’s called, and Jason hasn’t answered. All he knows is the fear in his chest that maybe Penguin wasn’t Cardinal’s only target today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick Grayson hated very few things, but one of those things is when his family doesn’t answer his calls.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because once upon a time, Tim Drake didn’t answer his phone. And once upon a time, Dick Grayson found his little brother’s body laying in a dried up pool of his own blood. And once upon a time, Dick Grayson added himself to the list of things he hates.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to Acxa_Kogane for the inspiration for the Jason angst over the Tim video :) You brought this upon yourself, honey, but I’m pretty sure you’ll be laughing about it so I don’t feel too bad.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Lazarus Stained</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I got convinced to post this chapter early. We’ll see if you guys appreciate that choice by the end of this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As each day and night passed, Jason got more and more agitated. He knew that Tim could be annoyingly evasive when he wanted to be, but this is getting ridiculous. Jason had staked out the area for weeks now, had added cameras and traps and had watched everything carefully, looking for even the slightest of hints. But there was nothing. Not even the slightest hint of Cardinal. Not since Penguin’s murder a week ago.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this point, Jason was thinking that maybe he’d actually have to answer Dick’s calls and explain his entire hunch just so he could get some goddamn help around here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He still hadn’t solved that human trafficking case and he knew that he was getting too caught up on proving the Tim is Cardinal theory and that people were losing their lives and dammit he needs to get his shit together—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But he was also losing sleep over this— in fact he hasn’t slept more than 12 hours total in the past two weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All in all, life was going badly for Jason Todd and he was paranoid about resting for even one night because last time he did that, Cardinal had killed again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stumbled into his room and face planted onto his bed after another failed night of looking for Cardinal and groaned out a, “<em>fuckkkkkkkkkk.”</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Someone cleared their throat behind him and Jason bolted around, pulling out a gun and leveling it at their head before he could even register who was in his apartment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dick,” he sighed, recognizing his older <strike>bother</strike> brother. “The hell are you doing here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You look like shit Jason.” Dick stated, his arms crossed over his chest, leveling the Disappointed Stare at him that only Dick could pull off and make him feel guilty. “And for the record, I’ve been waiting for you for the past 8 hours.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason huffed and put his gun back under his pillow. “Been busy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go back to your puns, Dick. Sarcasm looks horrible on you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall he was leaning against. “You’ve been ignoring me, and something tells me it’s about Cardinal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason averted his eyes. He didn’t want to tell Dick about Cardinal because there was still a chance he was wrong but—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What is it?” Dick’s voice went soft, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, which Jason immediately shrugged off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He... saved me.” Jason huffed, trying to act nonchalant.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cardinal. He saved me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...is this about all those bodies we found near that area you’ve been staking out?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason nodded. “They beat the shit out of me, Dick. I almost died. And Cardinal swooped in and killed them all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick looked him over, studying Jason intensely, looking for injuries. Jason sighed and took off his shirt and turned around, letting Dick see the ten massive scars running down his back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Holy shit...” Dick breathed, his fingers trailing lightly over the scars. “Jason... this isn’t the kind of injury you heal from in two weeks, even with your accelerated healing rate...”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know.” Jason said, and grabbed his shirt and pulled it back over his head. “I don’t know what he did. I wasn’t even conscious for when he killed all those mercs.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damn...” Dick whispered. “So... he brought you back to wherever his hideout is to fix you up?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason shook his head. “Nope. I woke up here. He knows how to get into my place, which means he probably knows how to get into the Cave and your place and even Duke’s place—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I get it.” Dick huffed. “That’s bad... shit we might all need new security systems if that’s the case. When the hell did he figure all of that out?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know...” Lie. Yes he did. Cardinal is <em>Tim</em>, that’s how he knew. Tim was the one who <em>designed</em> their security systems. Of course he knew how to get into their safehouses. “I don’t know what he did to my injury either, but I woke up the next day and it was 99% healed already.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s— is that even possible?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Apparently it is now. I haven’t seen anything like it.” Jason sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If Cardinal can induce an accelerated healing like that on himself too... then we need to reevaluate everything we know about him. If it’s a type of medicine that’s one thing, but if it’s a meta power then that complicates things.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I considered that. I don’t think it’s a meta power though.” Jason replied, because Tim wasn’t a meta.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...is there something else you aren’t telling me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason sighed, “I’ve got a hunch or two about him, but nothing concrete. I’ll tell you if I get more evidence.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick frowned, “Jason, if you have an idea about who Cardinal is—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told you, golden boy. I’ll tell you when I get more evidence. But right now, it’s just a dumb hunch. I don’t really have any evidence other than the note he left.” Lie. The only evidence Jason had was circumstantial and hazy memories that probably couldn’t be trusted fully. But that was the thing. Jason was just, so <em>sure</em> that Cardinal was Tim. He had to be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he wasn’t, Jason didn’t know what he would do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He left a note?!” Dick’s eyes went wide. “Jason that’s—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s nothing, really. You can’t analyze it for handwriting and a psychological profile. There’s no real evidence. It’s just... a note.” Jason huffed and grabbed the note that he had stuffed into the nightstand. It was crumpled slightly, but Jason kept looking back at it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here. That’s all he left.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick unfolded the note and read it carefully. “This... well. You’re right. It doesn’t say anything helpful at all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothing except that Black Mask is on his list. Well, he suggests it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick’s eyes snapped to his. “Shit, you’re right. That’s good. We need to monitor Mask more closely—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No no, Jason didn’t want Dick in on this. Not yet. He needed to bluff, come up with something— “I already got it covered. I’m going after a human trafficking ring with links to him. I intend to take them both down in the same night, and get more from Cardinal at the same time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s... a risky plan. And you’ve been burning yourself out. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve got it covered.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> He repeated, steadfast. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jason...” Dick sighed. “It’s okay to ask for help sometimes you know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason reached up and ran his hands through his hair, “Look... Cardinal didn’t have to save me. He could’ve let me die and have one less vigilante in his way. But he didn’t. And maybe... maybe that means he’ll be more inclined to talk to me if we meet again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick looked contemplative for a moment, before a smirk broke across his face. “Oh I get it. You’ve found another vigilante who kills and now you’ve got a crush.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason had never had a worse thought. “Absolutely not.” Gross. Definitely not. “Thought we were trying to capture this guy, not bring him out on a fucken date.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick laughed and held up his hands, “I’m just sayin, you have a track record for sleeping with people that have a history of murder~”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason was going to punch him. He was going to slam Dick’s face into the closest piece of furniture and hope that Dick’s jaw would be too broken to allow him to speak. Preferably for the rest of his life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You need to shut your face. There are many people I will sleep with, but Cardinal is at the bottom of that goddamn list. Actually scratch that, he’s not even on the fucking list.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick hummed, that damn smirk still plastered on his face. “Sure, sure. So... Mask?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right.” Jason focused back on the real topic of this conversation. “I’ve been watching Cardinal’s kill patterns— do not look at me like that— and he seems to have slowed down to one kill per week. I have no fucking clue why, and he isn’t consistent with the dates. He’s killed on a Sunday, followed by a Tuesday, followed by Friday, though the Tuesday might have been a fluke cause that was when he intervened in the fight I was in. Obviously he’s inconsistent so we can’t find a pattern, but I’m going to go after Mask again on Thursday.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay? Why Thursday?” Dick dropped his playful attitude, now looking skeptical.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason wasn’t going to say that he chose Thursday because Tim died on a Thursday, so he had to come up with something else, “Dunno, I just chose a random day.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, so this Thursday you and I go shut down Black Ma—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What part of this conversation makes you think that having both of us there would make Cardinal go ‘hmm, yep, now I want to show my face’?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick crossed his arms, a frown forming on his face, unhappy at the plan Jason was laying out. “I know you said you have it covered, but you’re tired and last time you tried to take down Mask, you nearly got killed. It would be better to have backup.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will have backup.” Jason said defiantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really? Who?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cardinal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick facepalmed, “That’s not— that’s the opposite— that’s not backup.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was last time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, only because you were dying! Besides, there’s no way to know if Cardinal will be there or not. You can’t just go in alone, relying on a psychopath to keep you safe!” Dick looked almost angry now, fists clenched at his sides.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look, I know it’s stupid. But it’s the best plan I’ve got. I don’t think Cardinal is as wary around me as he is you and Batsy, and right now I need to take advantage of that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick pinched the bridge of his nose and Jason saw him take three deep breaths, trying to calm down. “Have you considered that maybe you’ve just been lucky the last two times? That maybe he’ll see you for the third time and snap? Cardinal is <em>dangerous</em>, Jason.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Cardinal is Tim</em>. He has to be. “Yeah, I’ve considered it. But it’s the best I’ve got.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dick was silent for a long time, shoulders tense, staring at the floor. The seconds seemed the stretch out into hours as Jason worried his lip, scared for Dick’s response. When Dick did speak, his voice was quiet. “Jaybird... I... I get it. Cardinal needs to be taken down. But... I can’t— this family— we can’t lose you too.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason closed his eyes, and he remembered a teenager with a laugh that could make everyone smile. A teenager with eyes that shone at first glance, but the longer you stared, the more tired he looked. A teenager who killed himself and all his final note said was “goodbye.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dick. I know. I get it. I— I fucking miss him too, okay? But Cardinal won’t kill me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How do you know?” Dick’s voice was barely above a whisper.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Call it a feeling. He won’t. Trust me, pl<em>ea</em>se.” Jason’s voice cracked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A long moment passed, silent except for the hum of the air conditioning and cars driving by outside. When Dick finally raised his gaze, his blue eyes met Jason’s lazarus stained ones. “Okay. I trust you. But please, <em>please</em> be careful, Jaybird.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will. I promise.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Control</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim had gotten another coffee. This was his third one. He probably shouldn’t have gotten a third coffee.</p><p> </p><p>But he was having trouble sleeping lately. His brain was stuck on a repeat of scenes that shouldn’t hurt him, yet they did.</p><p> </p><p>He was imagining Damian and Bruce talking to Ra’s. He was imagining the same hunched shoulders and tired expression that always accompanied Bruce nowadays. He was imagining Damian’s new suit, designed so clearly after Tim’s old one.</p><p> </p><p>He was imagining Dick’s cocky grin, well aware that hidden under it was a life full of pain. He was imagining the bright eyes that hid the fact that they’d seen his families’ bodies in front of him, imagining warm hands that betrayed the fact that they’d once held a lifeless corpse. After all, the records said that Dick was the one to find Tim’s clone first. Dick shouldn’t have been the one—</p><p> </p><p>He was imagining Jason’s set shoulders and proud voice, which betrayed him when he was alone. He was imagining Red Hood at that gravestone, whispering “I miss you” over and over again. How could he live with that? How had Tim managed to look Jason in the eye and tell him lie after lie after lie? How had he managed to act like a cold and indifferent stranger?</p><p> </p><p>It reminded him that he was a monster now. That there was no going back for him. No redemption. He didn’t want redemption. He wanted to save Gotham and to save his family, even at the expense of himself.</p><p> </p><p>But would it matter? Would any of this bullshit matter if Bruce and Dick and Jason and Damian kept spiraling so far that they wouldn’t be able to keep Gotham safe after Tim was gone? Would they find out who Cardinal is and break?</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care if you’re a psycho assassin now or whatever,” Jason had mumbled. Tim hadn’t been sure he’d heard it right, but it was obvious Jason knew the truth now. He’d been trying to ignore it, ignore all the signs, but it was obvious. Jason knew and yet he still visited that gravestone, he still cried despite knowing the truth, and he still scoured the city each night for Cardinal.</p><p> </p><p>Part of Tim knew this would happen. That his family wouldn’t be able to let go of him. That they wouldn’t be able to accept that he’d thrown away everything he was for them.</p><p> </p><p>He’d always loved his family. He’d always been too willing to risk his life for them. Even when they weren’t there, even when they didn’t support him, he’d been willing to do anything for them.</p><p> </p><p>And he still was.</p><p> </p><p>He threw back the last of his cup of coffee, feeling the bitter liquid burn his tongue and slide down his throat, and he took a deep steadying breath. Now was no time to break down. He’d done that already. He’d done that and he’d had to rely on Ra’s to pull him out. He was getting too close. Getting too close to Ra’s— to <em>anyone</em>— will just make his mission more difficult in the future. He needs to stay distanced. He needs to tear himself away from his emotional attachments and focus.</p><p> </p><p>Focus.</p><p> </p><p>Focus.</p><p> </p><p>He got up and walked to the kitchen, his gait steady and determined. He washed out his mug of coffee, lathering soap along the inside and the rim, rinsed it out, dried it with a towel, and placed the mug back in the cabinet.</p><p> </p><p>And then he cracked his knuckles and rotated his neck, feeling the tension leave him. He needed to focus. He had work to do. If Jason had already figured it out, then the rest of the Bats might not be that far behind. It didn’t seem like Jason had said anything yet, but all it takes is one slip. One slip around Batman and he’ll catch you mid lie. Tim needed to make sure that he had everything done before then. Just because he could take down Batman, just because he had the skills he needed to win nearly every fight he ever starts, doesn’t mean that he should set himself up to end up in that situation.</p><p> </p><p>He needed to move his time table up. Maybe two kills a week? Or should he do more planned kills? If he plans out the deaths of the criminals on his list on top of the choice-based plans he already has in place for the smaller fry, as well as the in person kills, then he could cut the time he would have to be here in half.</p><p> </p><p>But maybe he shouldn’t look desperate? Jason doesn’t know that he knows. And Jason hasn’t said anything yet. That gives him time.</p><p> </p><p>Yes. He has time. He can do this calmly. He can still warp the world to fit his plans. He’s Tim fucking Drake. He can do this. He can make an entire city succumb to his mind without them even knowing. Easy.</p><p> </p><p>He returned to his desk and opened his file for Black Mask. Originally, he was going to set the kill for Saturday, four days from now, but if he moved it up... that would be good. He’ll set the kill for two days from now instead. Thursday.</p><p> </p><p>On Thursday he’ll move to take out Black Mask. That’ll be a double kill mission too since Victor Zsasz is known to hang around Mask.</p><p> </p><p>He’s got this. A few hitches in his plan won’t kill him. Tim has control.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He’s in control.</em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>He won’t let something as stupid as his emotions get in the way. He won’t let his family get in the way. He is in control. And he will finish his mission.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing and no one can take his control away from him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Shits about to go down</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Preparations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Name: Roman Sionis</p><p>Age: 44 years old</p><p>Height: 6 feet 2 inches (188 centimeters)</p><p>Gender: Male</p><p>Weight: 205 lbs (93 kilograms)</p><p>Eye Color: Hazel</p><p>Hair Color: Brown</p><p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p><p>Alias: Black Mask</p><p>Kill Count: 262 confirmed kills</p><p>Note: Black Mask hires assassins to do his dirty work on the regular, therefore the true number of his kill count is more accurately ~522.</p><p>Status: Alive</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Case File Closed</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Roman Sionis was a little <em>bitch</em>.</p><p> </p><p>That is, unlike the other villains in Gotham who aren’t afraid of Cardinal, he chose to surround himself with super assassins, body guards, and also made “friends” with Victor Zsasz.</p><p> </p><p>The air quotes are there to imply that there is something more going on between them. Because Tim is 90% sure that those two are fucking.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe that was just a hunch though. He’s never been good with relationships.</p><p> </p><p>As shown by his many ex girlfriends. One of whom faked her death. Not to get away from him, but sometimes that’s how it felt.</p><p> </p><p>...<em>anyways</em>, he’s getting distracted.</p><p> </p><p>Black Mask is probably going to be his most troublesome target yet. Tim may have cut down his super assassin amounts when he saved Jason, but that didn’t change the fact that Mask had several more at his disposal. And once again, Tim must stress, Victor Zsasz. That guy is going to be a problem.</p><p> </p><p>Tim was decked out in gear, just about every lethal weapon he had, because he knew this mission wasn’t going to be easy. However, he was kinda looking forward to it? Maybe that was a bad thing, but in comparison to his training with Ra’s’ assassins— the days when he would fight 15 people at once while weighed down by chains— Gotham was kinda... boring. Or maybe Tim had been making it boring for himself by ensuring that each kill would go through smoothly.</p><p> </p><p>Either way, tonight would no doubt be the opposite of boring. Tim’s estimates say that he’ll find at least 5 super assassins, 10 bodyguards (not that those guys are every actually good at their jobs), Victor Zsasz, and Sionis himself to deal with.</p><p> </p><p>Tim reached for a case of throwing stars and slipped it into his coat. You can never have too many deadly weapons.</p><p> </p><p>Anyways, tonight would be a slaughterhouse. This wouldn’t be the first time Tim has been the cause of such a situation, which probably should’ve been more concerning... but after his 3 month mission, things like this didn’t bother him as much.</p><p> </p><p>Tim took a deep breath. He was ready, he supposed. Time to get a murderin’</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Red Hood prepared several guns— even going as far to grab himself an AK-47, just for good measure. He didn’t know what to expect with his mission to take down Black Mask, collapse that human trafficking operation, and confront Cardinal, but he did know that he was going to need a lot of bullets. Hopefully not for that last part though.</p><p> </p><p>He slipped a pair of army knives into his boots for extra measure, and double checked his body armor. He’d gotten new armor this time, the more high quality kind. He wasn’t looking forward to almost getting himself killed again. Despite his many death jokes, Jason doesn’t actually want to die.</p><p> </p><p>His phone dinged with a text.</p><p> </p><p><strong>GoldenBoy</strong>:</p><p>Don’t be dumb</p><p>Like seriously</p><p>Retreat if you need to</p><p> </p><p>Jason rolled his eyes, and shot back a quick text.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Crowbat</strong>:</p><p>I packed my big guns, don’t worry about me</p><p> </p><p>The lack of response warranted a smirk on Jason’s end. However, he knew Dick would be worrying about him all night, despite his attempts at consoling him.</p><p> </p><p>Jason was ready for just about anything to happen tonight. Dick had promised to keep Bruce and the rest of the family out of it unless Jason needed help— which was why Jason had “promised” to keep his comms open and keep Dick updated on what happened while he was working.</p><p> </p><p>But if he found Cardinal, if he found Tim, he would be throwing his comms out the nearest window. If his family was going to find out about Tim being alive— holy shit Tim is alive again— then Jason didn’t want them finding out through a video feed and comm system. He still remembered the broken expressions of his brothers and sister when they’d found out what had happened to Tim.</p><p> </p><p>Jason had had time to process it. Even if he hadn’t confirmed that Cardinal was Tim, he’d had the time to process the possibility that he was. He was prepared. But Dick, but the entire damn family? They didn’t know what he knew.</p><p> </p><p>He took a steadying breath. He didn’t even know if Cardinal would be there tonight. He could be going into this utterly alone, only accompanied by Dick over the comm system. He could end up injured worse than before, and without Cardinal’s magic healing shit, the chance of Jason not coming out of this alive was high.</p><p> </p><p>But he had faith. He didn’t believe in God, not anymore at least. He’d been dead one to many times for that. But he had faith that behind the sharp cornered mask Cardinal wore was a set of doe eyes, steel blue and ready to analyze the world down to every last detail. He had faith that even if the worst possible thing happened tonight, that Cardinal— that Tim— would be there to back him up. He couldn’t explain it. For Jason, it felt like the universe would bend to make sure Tim was there for him. Because Tim had that odd ability, that ability to always be there when people needed him. He’d been there to pull Bruce out of time, he’d accepted Jason even after he’d tried to kill him, he’d given Dick a reason to smile and laugh more times than Jason ever had, and he’d been there to help his friends time and time again. Jason wasn’t sure if the universe bended for Tim or if he bended it himself, but it was one of those two. And that’s why Jason knew, <em>he knew</em>, that Tim would be there for him tonight.</p><p> </p><p>They were family after all. And this was Tim Drake.</p><p> </p><p>Tim Drake may haven given up on himself 3 years ago, but he never gave up on the people he cared about.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I get way too excited to update this fic</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. The Compound Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Been listening to a lot of Sub Urban as I write recently... and villain playlists in general. It helps with the vibes for this, but sometimes I get too into the villain vibes and forget that Tim is still a sweetheart underneath all the murder. oopsies</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Name: Victor Zsasz</p>
<p>Age: 40 years</p>
<p>Height: 5 feet 8 inches (173 centimeters)</p>
<p>Gender: Male</p>
<p>Weight: 150 pounds (68 kilograms)</p>
<p>Eye Color: Blue</p>
<p>Hair Color: Bald</p>
<p>Note: Used to have black hair, but he’s pulled a Saitama</p>
<p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p>
<p>Alias: Mister Zsasz</p>
<p>Note: Name is not very original</p>
<p>Kill Count: 712 kills</p>
<p>Note: This is the confirmed number, seeing as Zsasz tallies his kills on his skin.</p>
<p>Status: Alive</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Several electrified feathers flew through the air, striking each of their targets with <em>deadly</em> accuracy. Literally. You know why.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal had two goals tonight. Everyone who got in his way was just collateral damage. Which he usually tries to avoid, but he’d prepared himself for tonight to be different from his usual kills.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal blocked a baseball bat— and really? A bat? Against him? Wow, what an idiot— letting the wood slide down his reinforced forearm, distributing the blow across the area of his arm. He trusted his armor to take all of the force of the blow, but instinct was instinct. What was less instinct and more sickening was the way he stole the bat from the man attacking him with it and bashed it over the guy’s head, blood splattering from the wound.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>...Maybe he’d paid too much attention to Ra’s’ lessons on the uses of unconventional weapons. As long as no one gave him a shovel or a ballpoint pen, then maybe he can avoid using those lessons further.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Several gunshots went off and Tim felt the impact against his coat, and suddenly was glad for the reinforced material. Nothing like a bullet proof trench coat to keep you safe in the middle of a deadly battle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim’s bō blades sliced through the nearest opponent and Tim’s very, very twisted mind likened it to a game of Speed Slice in Wii Sports Resort.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>...maybe he needed therapy?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ah, whatever, too late for that. He was just planning on getting worse from here, so there wouldn’t be any point.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he blocked a blow from another bullet— angling his blade just right so that the bullet bounced off the bloodstained metal and penetrated a woman’s arm nearby, he simultaneously reached into his coat with his left hand, wrapping his fingers delicately around a trio of throwing stars.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If there was anything to say about the ridiculous training he did under both Ra’s and Bruce, it’s that his aim with various throwing star-like weapons is impeccable. Each one hit their targets, that is, the jugular of three separate bodyguards.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh right, speaking of bodyguards. Black Mask must’ve been paranoid, because there were <em>way</em> more of them than Tim was expecting. At least 30, potentially more in the areas of the compound he hadn’t gotten to yet. Not to mention the super assassins.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well he wouldn’t call them super assassins. They were kinda like normal assassins. Tim would know, seeing as he’s spent the last three years around normal assassins and super assassins alike.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Huh... were any of these guys from the League?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mid-fight he whipped out his phone from a hidden pocket inside of one of his hidden pockets (it was hidden there cause it had personal information on it, like his coffee order, Ra’s’ number, and the many open tabs of fanfic he’d been reading recently to pass the time in between murders) and he clicked on Ra’s’ contact.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ra’s picked up immediately, as he always does, his smooth but still eternally creepy voice sounding over the speaker, “Hello, ابني. Why are you calling?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim sliced a man’s head off, “Oh I was wondering if you’ve dispatched any league members to Gotham recently?” A back kick, strong enough to send the guy behind him flying into the man several feet away, who was holding a knife. Oops, unintentional stabbing. “Cause I’m at Black Mask’s compound thingy right now and don’t want to kill any of my future followers.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ra’s chuckled, “I removed all of my assassins from Gotham when you first came to me and haven’t sent any since. You’re all clear. I see you’re looking forward to taking my place, ابني.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Teasing. Ra’s was teasing him. Tim chuckled as he pulled a liquid nitrogen bomb from his belt and chucked it across the room to take care of the robot thing that had just walked in through the open doors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey hey now, you’re the one who gave me the position of Heir. You can’t make fun of me about my excitement.” Tim retorted, throwing another set of throwing stars and cocking his head to the side as he realized that was the last of the people in this room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well you’d be right about that. It sounds like you’re having fun over there.” Ra’s returned, and Tim heard the faint sounds of metal clinking on metal. Oh, was Ra’s having breakfast?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Taking down Black Mask is an adventure, that’s for sure. And good morning.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah, thank you ابني. I suppose I will let you get back to your mission, enjoy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will do,” Tim chirped as he quickly scanned the room. No clear life signs, just bodies. “See ya, Ra’s.” He clicked end on the phone call.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In all honesty, Tim was kinda disappointed that there weren’t any League assassins here. He could make them kill all of the extra meat in the rest of the compound and let Tim handle the big bosses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sighed and ran a gloved hand through his hair, ignoring the blood that was undoubtedly on his glove and therefore now in his hair. He was gonna take a shower after this anyways.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh well, he’ll just have to do it all himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim walked around the room and retrieved his weapons, knowing that running out later would be unfortunate, especially when the problem could be easily solved by being smart now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then he heard gunshots.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh that’s nice. Just another day in Gotham—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>—Wait, <em>gunshots</em>?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another gunshot echoed through the air, and Tim tried to place it. The shots sounded far away... like they were on the other side of the compound...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Someone else was here.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I was reading another fic a couple of days ago and it described murder as “committing not alive” and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that since. </p>
<p>Tim and Jason 🤝 Committing not alive</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. The Compound Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason had followed a truck full of women stolen off the streets for disgusting human trafficking reasons to a compound that he immediately recognized as an old building Joker used to use. It was the Clown Prince’s favorite place actually, the place being nondescript on the outside but impressive on the inside. Parts of it ran underground and there was only two entrances— one on the south end and one on the north. Jason was on the North side now, where there was a docking bay. Undoubtedly for them to smuggle their “prizes” inside to be sold on the black market later. Scumbags.</p><p> </p><p>Sorry, he just hates human traffickers. They reminded him of his days of being kidnapped and tortured by the clown who also happened to control this base once upon a time.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks, Cardinal for murdering that bitch, but next time, you should invite Jason and Babs along for revenge hours.</p><p> </p><p>Eh, what’s done is done and Jason doesn’t want the clown to somehow come back from decapitation, no matter how much he would’ve liked to be present for Joker’s death.</p><p> </p><p>Jason had no intention of sticking to Bruce’s no kill rule tonight. If he could, he’d take down Mask permanently. Having said that, no one else was really on his list tonight. He just wanted to find Cardinal and get these innocents out of here and back to their homes. But he also wasn’t stupid enough to know that, with as many men Mask has hired to protect him, he will be able to get the civilians out of here easily and achieve his goals with Mask and hopefully Cardinal.</p><p> </p><p>The initial plan was to get the civilians out sneakily and then start blasting. But then there were several gunshots from... the south end? Who the hell was at—</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Barry, get off your ass!” A henchman yelled, running through the door into the docking area where the civilians were being unloaded from. Jason crouched a little lower behind the crate he was using as cover. “Some freak is at the other entrance, taking down all of the Boss’ men. Zsasz told us to get the bitches to our other location!”</p><p> </p><p>No fucking way.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>No fucking way.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Was Cardinal here?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> Like actually?</span></p><p> </p><p>Dick was making sure that Bruce and the rest of the gang didn’t interrupt him tonight, and the only other person that would be here is Cardinal, right?</p><p> </p><p>“Golden Boy, you hearing this?” Jason whispered over comms.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’m hearing it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Told you Thursday was a good day,” Jason quipped and then stood up and began shooting. He took down all of the henchmen in a matter of seconds, and then looked towards the victims who were huddled together in the truck in fear. Usually, Jason would personally help them get back to the police station safely, but Cardinal was here. If he called the police to come get them, he might scare Cardinal off before Jason could get a moment to talk to him. But he couldn’t just leave them here either...</p><p> </p><p>Jason cursed, the harsh words grating in the night air. He stomped towards them, and pulled out a knife to cut the restraints around each of the victims hands and ankles. They each wore gags too. He counted 15 women and 7 men, probably all between the ages of 19 and 30. It would’ve been a good shipment.</p><p> </p><p>Damn, another on his list. Mask probably has at least twice this number of victims waiting inside or at that “other location” that had been mentioned.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jason said calmly as he reached for the nearest woman. He cut through her ties and pulled down her gag, and then moved to the next one. Three people in, the door to the compound opened again.</p><p> </p><p>“Well well well, look at what we have here.” A seething voice spoke behind him. Jason instantly pulled out a gun and fired.</p><p> </p><p>The lack of pained grunting told him that he’d missed long before Jason had fully turned around and laid his eyes on who his target had been.</p><p> </p><p>A pair of wild eyes met the whites of Jason’s helmet and he immediately recognized the scarred countenance of Victor Zsasz.</p><p> </p><p>Shit.</p><p> </p><p>Jason did <em>not</em> have the time for this.</p><p> </p><p>He had so many things on his plate, and it wasn’t fucking Thanksgiving yet.</p><p> </p><p>His years as Robin kicked in. Cardinal, as important as he was, was no longer the priority. The priority was the innocents behind him. Jason was a savior at his core.</p><p> </p><p>Jason fired again, unsurprised when Zsasz dodged it, and he rushed the man, firing several more times as he got closer.</p><p> </p><p>“What, you don’t wanna chat?” Zsasz quipped, pulling out a pair of knives. “Too bad, I guess we’re going to have to skip straight to the carving.”</p><p> </p><p>Okay first off, ew, no thanks. Second off, Jason just remembered the AK-47 he has strapped to his back.</p><p> </p><p>A knife slashed across the leather of his jacket and another across his leg, ripping open the fabric of his cargo pants and slicing through his skin like butter. Damn it. Jason jumped back, getting out of range of Zsasz’s knives, and reached back for his Big Gun TM.</p><p> </p><p>He was expecting Zsasz to follow him, to try and get in close again. Instead, Zsasz moved back too.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, now, Red Hood, no need to be so punchy.” Zsasz smirked, as if he thought he was funny. “We can still be friends right?”</p><p> </p><p>Jason tilted his head to look at the victims still in the truck, checking on them, before returning his gaze back to Zsasz, “Yeahhh, <em>no</em>.” He deadpanned.</p><p> </p><p>He reached for the gun on his back, making his movements fast enough that Zsasz wouldn’t be able to react, and emptied a round of bullets into Zsasz. That takes care of that, right?</p><p> </p><p>Zsasz’s body hit the ground, bleeding from several places.</p><p> </p><p>Right.</p><p> </p><p>Jason set his AK-47 against the side of the semi and climbed back inside, picking up his knife off the floor from where he’d dropped it in favor of his gun. “Alright, now that that’s done, let’s get you all somewhere safe.”</p><p> </p><p>He swiftly moved through the rest of the civilians, freeing them as gently as possible while also trying to hurry, cause you know, Cardinal is here.</p><p> </p><p>“Hood,” a voice spoke in his ear. “I’ve called in Spoiler to come take care of the civilians. She’s only going to focus on them. You go find Cardinal.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason nodded, “Thanks, Nightwing.”</p><p> </p><p>He focused his attention back on the civilians, speaking slowly and calmly to them. “Spoiler is gonna come get you all to safety. I have to go take care of some stuff inside, but you will be safe with her.”</p><p> </p><p>They seemed scared, but knowing that Steph was on her way and that Cardinal was so close, meant that Jason didn’t have it in him to care.</p><p> </p><p>He grabbed his AK-47 and strapped it on his back again, and placed his knife back in his boot, and left the group of victims behind. “Nightwing, how far out is Spoiler?” He asked, just to ease his conscience. He didn’t want to leave them alone for too long.</p><p> </p><p>“Only a minute, they’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason opened the door to the compound and stepped inside. A lot could happen in a minute, but he trusted Steph to pull through. “Okay. I’m going after him.”</p><p> </p><p>“...You’re not talking about Mask, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Honestly, Jason had forgotten all about Roman Sionis. “No, I’m not.”</p><p> </p><p>And with that, he reached up, and flipped off his comms.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chance Encounter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Name: Victor Zsasz</p>
<p>Age: 40 years</p>
<p>Height: 5 feet 8 inches (173 centimeters)</p>
<p>Gender: Male</p>
<p>Weight: 150 pounds (68 kilograms)</p>
<p>Eye Color: Blue</p>
<p>Hair Color: Bald</p>
<p>Note: Used to have black hair, but he’s pulled a Saitama</p>
<p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p>
<p>Alias: Mister Zsasz</p>
<p>Note: Name is not very original</p>
<p>Kill Count: 714 kills</p>
<p>Note: This is the confirmed number, seeing as Zsasz tallies his kills on his skin.</p>
<p>Note: This number went up by 2 in the time between the first version of this file was written and his death. Not sure how concerning that is.</p>
<p>Status: Dead</p>
<p>Note: Killed by Red Hood</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim had run into more assassins that hadn’t entered the main place he’d been fighting in earlier as he’d moved towards the sound of the gunshots. He could already tell by the proximity of these people that they were not the ones who had fired those gunshots.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A blade crossed his face and Tim barely dodged, the tip of the blade slicing open the skin along his jaw. Tim registered the pain, said no thank you, and promptly proceeded to cut the bitch that did that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another assassin flew at him from behind, screaming bloody murder. Word of advice, if you’re going to attack someone from behind, don’t let them know that you’re behind them. Tim whacked them out of the air with his bō, hearing the crunch of bones from the impact with both the metal of his bo and the cement of the wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d been right about this mission being difficult. But it was turning out to be difficult in a fun way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hopefully it stayed fun. The gunshots he’d heard indicated otherwise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Four assassins ganged up on him at once and Tim struggled to keep up, feeling the impact of a weapon on his armor every other second. If it weren’t for his armor, he’d be long dead. Cardinal took advantage of the double bladed bō and sliced in both directions, aiming to kill. As expected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Two of the assassins crumbled, but in the time that Cardinal had taken to properly counter attack, the other two attacked without hesitation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim’s legs gave out underneath him as a baseball bat struck his thigh, hard enough that his armor couldn’t reduce all of the pain, and a crowbar came heavy down on his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim felt the pain immediately, eyes watering and vision getting blurry. He hissed, gritting his teeth. He wasn’t about to let some guys with some big metal sticks beat him up. Hell the fuck no.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal whipped around, slicing through the man’s legs behind him, and pulled a feather from his hair, sending it right into the throat of the other guy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kill shots.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim pulled himself fully to his feet, swaying, trying to blink the dark spots out of his vision. Fuck that hurt...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tapping on his wrist computer with a shaky hand, he pulled up his map of the compound he was in. It was a place Joker had used ages ago, abandoned, and then used a couple more times during Tim’s three year trip to Nanda Parbat. After Joker had been killed though, Black Mask had decided to take it over. Cause he was an asshole like that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Black Mask had moved all of his new operations here, having clearly decided that this place was far superior to the other one he’d been using. Said other one was now a secondary base, and the original base Hood had attempted to infiltrate earlier (when he’d almost died). That one was in the middle of the city, while this one laid more on the outskirts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Honestly, Tim was glad that Mask had moved. He liked this compound better. Dimly lit halls perfect for sneaking around, lavish paintings on the walls, not near anything important (like apartment buildings), and therefore in the perfect location to blow up if he wanted to. Tim didn’t have any major explosives on him at the moment, but he was sure Mask had some in storage. The other base would be a bit more difficult, but Tim could take that one down too. Destroying villain bases was always fun.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim took a deep breath and began to stumble through the halls, his body slowly recovering from the blow to the head he’d received. As he tracked his movement on the map he’d just pulled up, he contemplated two things:</p>
<p> </p>
<ol>
<li>Who was here with him?
</li>
<li>Where would Black Mask be hiding?
</li>
</ol>
<p> </p>
<p>He had a hunch on the first one in the form of Jason Todd. Gunshots usually equal either henchman or Red Hood, and they’d been on the other side of the compound, so Tim didn’t see any reason for a random henchman to be wasting bullets when Cardinal wasn’t even there. The second explanation made more sense though, in the scenario that Hood was going through the North entrance and taking down more assassins and stuff there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But that was problematic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Had Jason figured out when Tim was going to make his move? Or had Tim’s reschedule fucked this entire operation up for him?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Whatever. He just needed to kill Sionis and dip. He could easily avoid Red Hood. He was Cardinal, after all. He would stay in control. He wasn’t ready to face Jason yet— his current head injury would fuck up his judgement and fighting skills, and he might end up losing in a fight against Red Hood. But he didn’t have to face Hood, he could easily kill Black Mask without even getting within 50 feet of Jason, especially in a compound this big—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He registered the sound of heavy, hurried footsteps right as he turned a corner and found himself face to face with a panicked Roman Sionis.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh how convenient.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Black Mask stumbled backwards, and—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ran into a chest full of black and red body armor.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason hadn’t run into any more henchman or psycho assassins in his trek through Black Mask’s compound. In fact, it was eerily empty. He wondered if it was always like this, or if Cardinal had slaughtered them all already.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was glad he wasn’t going to be the police officers cleaning this mess up, that’s for damn sure. He grimaced just thinking about it. Jason had prepared to have to deal with more super assassins like last time, but the only real threat he’d faced so far was Zsasz. That meant either those six + Zsasz were the only real defense Mask had employed, or Cardinal was currently facing the hoards of henchman that Jason had expected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The second thought settled uneasily in his stomach. He knew Cardinal was good, but for Jason, Cardinal was still just his little brother. The thought of his little brother facing that many men alone was worrying. Cardinal may have been able to take out people that even Jason himself hadn’t, but there was always the chance that he’d just been lucky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The image of a blow dart buried in Hugo Strange’s neck flashed into his mind. A cold smirk on through a screen. The reports on Bruce’s desk, detailing the kill on Talon. A carefully written note placed inside Jason’s safe house.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No, Cardinal was never just lucky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was just that skilled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was just that dangerous.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>...what had Ra’s done to Timmy that made him so ruthless?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What had happened to the little bird that turned him into a cold blooded killer?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What had made him like Jason?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason heard footsteps ahead and immediately tore himself out of his thoughts. Dammit, Jason, you don’t even know if Cardinal actually is Tim. Stop acting like he is until you have concrete proof. Focus. Who is up ahead?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He readied his gun, a crept forward, hearing a panting breath and hurried footsteps. He rounded the corner into the hallway and saw Black Mask, gun in hand, a brief case in the other, running down the hallway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sionis turned down a hallway before Jason could fire his gun. Dammit. Well, he was this close already. Might as well just kill Mask and then go find Cardinal. He ran after Mask, rounding the same corner into a small and oddly packed corridor—</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Black Mask stumbled backwards into Jason, and Jason was so surprised that he dropped his gun, the cold metal clattering to the ground loudly in the silence of the corridor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His eyes found the lithe, but powerful build of Cardinal, standing only one mob boss away, looking shocked to see him, blood soaking his hair, and a pretty deep cut running along his jaw.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason blinked. Cardinal did too. Sionis whimpered in fear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jason cleared his throat. “Thought you said we wouldn’t be taking Mask down together.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It took Cardinal only a beat more to recover himself. “You’re right.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then the deadly blade of Cardinal’s signature bō sliced through the air in front of him, swift enough that Jason felt the rush of air against the small patch of exposed skin on his neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then Black Mask’s head hit the ground, separated from his body.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cardinal smirked, as if satisfied, and then turned and ran down the hallway, leaving Jason’s surprised form in the dust.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Opened</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Name: Roman Sionis</p>
<p>Age: 44 years old</p>
<p>Height: 6 feet 2 inches (188 centimeters)</p>
<p>Gender: Male</p>
<p>Weight: 205 lbs (93 kilograms)</p>
<p>Eye Color: Hazel</p>
<p>Hair Color: Brown</p>
<p>Skin Tone: Caucasian</p>
<p>Alias: Black Mask</p>
<p>Kill Count: 262 confirmed kills</p>
<p>Note: Black Mask hires assassins on the regular, therefore the true number of his kill count is more accurately ~522.</p>
<p>Status: Deceased</p>
<p>Note: Killed by the Cardinal</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>Case File Closed</strong>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ohohoho, shits going downnnnnn<br/>Man I’m so excited</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Come Back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Usually I don’t put a tw for this story since it’s all a tw, but I’ll go ahead and warn you of violence, blood, panic attacks, and angst. <br/>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim had purposefully avoided getting so close to a conscious and healthy Bat for a reason. He didn’t want to fight them. And then he’d more or less ran into Red Hood— or rather Sionis had run into him for Tim— and now he felt like he was frozen.</p><p> </p><p>He should’ve known this would happen. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Playing keep away with the Bats was one thing, or killing a target minutes before they arrived, or helping Jason when he was unconscious. That was easy. He was in control. He didn’t have to face them, to see the tension in Jason’s shoulders and the smirk in his voice and know that there was every chance this would end in a fight.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want to fight his family.</p><p> </p><p>He just wanted to save them.</p><p> </p><p>So he killed Sionis then and there, no fanfare, no warning. And then he ran. He ran away from Jason and tried to push down the rising panic in his chest. His vision was still blurry from the hit to the head he had taken, and the panic was just making it worse, head throbbing with every step he took.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t ready for this. Not now.</p><p> </p><p>Tim had always known that he was going to face someone in his family. He had known this. But that was supposed to be something he could control. He wasn’t in control here. Red Hood wasn’t meant to be here. Tim wasn’t <em>ready</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Cardinal!” Red Hood called out behind him, voice sharp and demanding. Tim kept running, his breathing shaky, not because of the physical activity, but because of his growing panic. He needed to get out of here, he couldn’t face Jason, not like this.</p><p> </p><p>Where was he going? This wasn’t the corridor he’d come down earlier. No, no, no, no— he needed to backtrack, but he couldn’t. Jason was still behind him.</p><p> </p><p>“Cardinal!” Hood called out again, and this time, Tim’s fingers inched towards one of the explosives he had in his coat. He didn’t want to use it, but if he couldn’t shake Jason soon, then he’d have to. He couldn’t face Jason now. </p><p> </p><p>His mind wasn’t in the right place. He knew that much already. If he had to face Jason now, it wouldn’t be like the many times Tim had seen him before. He wouldn’t be running the show, he’d be the puppet. He would break, his strings would snap, and then everything would be over.</p><p> </p><p>He rounded a corner and—</p><p> </p><p>No. No. No. No. No. No.</p><p> </p><p>A dead end.</p><p> </p><p>Once again, he was reminded that this compound only had two exits. And Tim had missed his turn.</p><p> </p><p>“Cardinal!” Red Hood snapped, frighteningly close this time, and Tim whirled around to meet him, swinging his bo, blades retracted, at Jason’s head. The pole hit the metal of Jason’s helmet and cracked it, the sound reverberating through the empty, dim hallway.</p><p> </p><p>Tim started to panic further, and he barely registered the sound of a gunshot before pain exploded in his calf. Fuck— <em>did Jason just shoot him?</em></p><p> </p><p>Tim hissed and lashed out with his bo several more times, shattering the right side of Jason’s helmet and striking Jason in several places where he knew the armor wasn’t as thick. He was acting like a caged animal and he knew it.</p><p> </p><p>Jason grunted and stumbled backwards, getting out of Tim’s range, already clearly favoring his left side after several hits to the right. Tim could feel a trail of blood sliding down his leg. Damn, Jason had managed to shoot the spot where his leg wasn’t protected by strong armor and instead just fabric.</p><p> </p><p>Red Hood held up his hands in front of him, palms facing towards Tim. “Wait, I don’t want to fight you.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim’s panicked brain short circuited, and he stopped. His breathing was heavy and he was glad for the mask covering his wide, frightened eyes. Had he hurt Jason? He didn’t want to hurt his family— that wasn’t why he was here—</p><p> </p><p>Jason slowly reached up and pulled off his half shattered helmet, revealing his face with blood running down the side of it, dripping off his jaw and onto his leather jacket. Jason then chucked the helmet down the hallway they’d come from, throwing it out of sight.</p><p> </p><p>Tim stayed silent. Watching. Waiting. Not trusting himself to move, in fear of lashing out again. Instead of moving, he subtly schooled himself into a carefully blank expression, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. He didn’t think it was working, but he couldn’t hear blood roaring in his ears anymore or the pounding in his head, so he counted that as a win.</p><p> </p><p>Jason reached up and then pulled off his domino mask, tossing it with his helmet, his eyes now showing, the Lazarus green glowing slightly in the dimly lit hall. And then he reached into his ear and pulled out his comm, before throwing it to the ground and smashing it under his boot.</p><p> </p><p>Wait. What? What the hell was—</p><p> </p><p>“Tim.” Jason said, voice clear and strong.</p><p> </p><p>Tim didn’t move, his expression didn’t change, but his heart skipped a beat. Tim. Jason had called him Tim.</p><p> </p><p>“Tim,” Jason said again. “I know... I know it’s you. Please, you don’t... I’m not going to tell Bruce. I won’t tell anyone who you are just—“</p><p> </p><p>Tim felt his grip on his bo loosen, but he still remained still, frozen, maybe in fear, maybe in something else, he wasn’t sure.</p><p> </p><p>“Come back to me,” Jason whispered, and Tim’s heart leapt into his throat.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Come back.</em>
</p><p> </p><p><strong>No</strong>. Focus. He narrowed his eyes, morphing his previously carefully blank face into one of careful contemplation. Jason had crushed his comms and threw his helmet far enough away that if anyone were checking in on his feeds, they wouldn’t find anything. They wouldn’t see what was happening here. It was dramatic, to crush him comms like that, when he could’ve just turned them off, but the point was made clear. Jason really meant it when he said that he wasn’t going to tell anyone.</p><p> </p><p>“Tim.” Jason said again, his voice cracking. Tim noticed something shining in Jason’s eyes— tears. Fuck, was— was Jason crying? “Replacement, I’m sorry. I don’t— I’m just sorry. Fuck—“</p><p> </p><p>Tim felt his strings snap.</p><p> </p><p>And he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He couldn’t keep himself carefully blank, just barely holding back a panic attack. He felt his bo slip out of his grip and heard it clang to the floor and watched as Jason’s gaze snapped up to meet his, only for Tim to rush forward, unable to stop his body from moving.</p><p> </p><p>He wrapped his arms around Jason and buried his head into the leather of Jason’s jacket.</p><p> </p><p>A sharp intake of breath was the only reaction he got from Jason at the sudden movement, and Tim could feel how tense Jason was, so much so that the man wasn’t even breathing.</p><p> </p><p>And then Jason’s arms wrapped around Tim and pulled him ever closer, his body relaxing as he exhaled.</p><p> </p><p>Tim felt a hand gently card through his hair before Jason spoke into Tim’s hair, “I’ve fucking missed you, Replacement.”</p><p> </p><p>Tim didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. God, it’d been so long since he was last hugged like this—</p><p> </p><p>Right here, being hugged by his brother, was a feeling he was so unused to. A feeling he hadn’t experienced in years. A feeling so rare that he didn’t even know what to call it. He felt safe. His earlier panic that he’d been trying to ward off left him completely now. He could smell leather and blood and he could hear Jason’s heavy heartbeat and everything calmed down, even if it was just for that moment. He never wanted to let go.</p><p> </p><p>“What did Ra’s do to you?” Jason whispered, and the name reminded Tim of what was wrong here. Of why he’d been panicking earlier. Of why he couldn’t be here, of why he couldn’t be hugging Jason.</p><p> </p><p>He stiffened, and squeezed his eyes shut, momentarily reveling in the warmth of Jason’s embrace before pushing himself away. He didn’t look at Jason as he turned and walked back towards his bo, picking it up off the ground, hand shaking once again as he did so. He kept his back to Jason still, when he spoke again.</p><p> </p><p>“Ra’s didn’t do anything to me.” He said, keeping his voice steady despite the hurricane of emotions currently rising back up inside him.</p><p> </p><p>The hurricane was powerful, slamming into the already cracked walls of Tim’s fortress. He couldn’t stay here. He needed to escape. He was still in a dead end, but that didn’t matter.</p><p> </p><p>Ra’s had made sure he always had an escape.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Tim pressed the button on his wrist computer and faded into his pocket dimension, right in front of Jason’s eyes.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Join my <a href="https://discord.gg/Fakns8Ctmz">Discord Server?</a></p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27998763">Birds of Red Feathers</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acxa_Kogane/pseuds/Acxa_Kogane">Acxa_Kogane</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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